


Pick Your Poison; I've Chosen Mine

by Anon1Adult



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Bottom Sam Winchester, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Can you Slow Burn an established relationship?, Canon Death to make Dean a Knight of Hell, Canon Temporary Character Death, Demon Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, M/M, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Slow Burn, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6724663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon1Adult/pseuds/Anon1Adult
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam accepts the title of Boy King as he rescues Dean from Hell and in turn Dean does what he can to ensure Sam keeps that title.</p><p>Dean still sees far too much of Azazel power in Sam's yellow eyes for his liking.<br/>Sam never knows when the bloodlust in Dean's black eyes will be directed at him. </p><p>They've never fit together so perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy King! Sam  
> Demon!Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _AMAZINGLY_ talented [Bluefire986](http://bluefire986.livejournal.com/6914.html) created the art prompt. You can check it out [here](http://i.imgur.com/XnvwN0F.jpg).  
>  (All of her pieces are _wonderful_. Highly recomment you go check out her other works!)
> 
> The first chapter can be read as a One-Shot.  
> Once again, it's one of those stories where I didn't allow time to have a beta.  
> 10/26/2016 Edit: I've officially gone back through and beta-ed my own work. (How some of you favorited this is first time I will never understand; but I love you anyway.)

# 

  


**NOW**

Dean snorted a laugh into his beer, “You wanna run that by me again?” 

“There are five monster families that run Chicago.” Sam read again from the email. Each bullet point highlighted a family, species, and the local business they had a hand in. Unsurprising the Qureshi ghouls owned more than a few funeral homes. Stereotypically the Genovese vampires had a hand in the local blood bank. “Apparently, they’ve infiltrated the police department and morgues to help cover up monster kills.”

“You got a wendigo pushing papers?” Dean asked coming to look over Sam’s shoulder at the laptop. “Hey, wasn’t Genovese one of the New York mafia families?” 

Sam bit his lip, he’d forgotten about Dean’s fascination with mobs. “Dean, please focus.” At Dean’s dismissive “yeah, yeah” Sam continued, “It’s odd that so many different monsters are sharing territory. And by the looks of this, it’s not just these five families.”

Dean frowned at the screen, “Aren’t most of those solitary creatures? Like the Djinn.”

“Leaving their parents as soon as they’re of age.” Sam nodded.

“Well, guess that means if they’re all together it’ll be easier to run them all through.” Dean quipped bumping his hip into Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam glanced up at him, “So we’re going to follow up on it then?” 

“Hell yes.” Dean grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on, “If we get on the road now we might be in time to stop at that Portillo’s place for Italian beef.”

Sam huffed a dry laugh at Dean’s enthusiasm. Food and killing seemed to be his motivation these days. 

"Come on Sammy. It’s a four-hour drive, you can suck my dick for at least half that.”

Well, that and sex.

# 

Before Chicago, the brothers agreed “monster family” meant either a vampire nests or the rare werewolf pack. 

They’d also agreed monsters species didn’t intermingle. 

Chicago made them reevaluate what they knew about the more humanoid monsters. Underneath a favorite local sports bar, a sizable speakeasy had been converted into a monster lounge. 

As the brothers walked across the room towards the bar, every head turned to follow them. Inhuman eyes and forked tongues flicking their direction in curiosity. 

Sam settled himself on a bar stool and ordered two shots while Dean leaned against the almost reflective polished counter. 

The bartender finished the drinks she was mixing and set it aside, putting a hand on her hip and fixing them both with an unimpressed stare. 

“Problem?” Dean asked as he leaned an elbow against the shiny surface.

“We don’t serve _your_ kind.” She curtly informed them. 

Sam nonchalantly rested his forearms against the counter and laced his fingers together. “Our kind?" He asked innocently. 

“Demon scum.” She spat. 

Dean gave the bartender a flirtatious smile. “We’re looking for some information is all.” 

Her snake eyes narrowed as she glowered at him, “We don’t share information with demons either.”

Sam sucked air through his teeth as he made a show of wincing, “That's a shame. We were hoping this wouldn’t have to get ugly.”

“You were hoping,” Dean muttered loud enough for the Vetala couple next to them to hear. 

The bartender’s brave front wavered, and she took a step back from the counter. “How did you even get in here? You shouldn’t have made it past the door.”

“Oh!” Dean brightened and set the first blade on the counter, the jaw bone red with fresh blood, “You mean how did we get past your bouncer?” 

“Does the name Winchester mean anything to you?” Sam’s question silenced the quiet murmur of the room. From the back of the crowd, a drinking glass shattered as it hit the floor. 

Sam made a show of lifting his hand and snapping his fingers, the exit doors slamming shut, sealed under Sam’s force of will. He stood slowly taking in the room with a calculating eye. Fangs and claws flashed as the fight-or-flight instincts kicked in around them. 

“Whoever takes out more doesn’t buy dinner.” Dean proposed taking a step towards the vampire baring its teeth at them. 

Sam glanced at his brother, Dean’s eyes were already flooded black in anticipation of feeding the Mark. 

A zing of unchecked fear raced down Sam’s spine at the absolute destruction those eyes promised. Sam brought his emotions back under control with a deep breath and the knowledge that he had nothing to fear from Dean. “You’re on.”

The cries of horror and fury rose around them as the monsters abandoned the farce of civilized members of society. The more aggressive creatures descended on them first, trying to overpower the brothers by overwhelming them. 

Dean moved through the crowd as if it were a choreographed dance. Incomparably graceful as he drove his blade into any creature brave enough to come directly at him. Separating heads from necks as he pivoted, uncaring of the blood soaking into his clothes as he aimed for arterial veins. 

Whereas Dean was careless grace, Sam was tactical, brute force. 

Using his unmatchable strength and elemental control, the monsters around him were dead before they hit the floor. Snapped necks or spines if they were susceptible to death via physical trauma. Others he alternated between stopping their hearts with a touch or crisping them from the inside out with electricity. 

45 minutes after they’d descending the stair to the hidden entrance of “Club Chimera” Dean collapsed onto a plush couch with a little-satisfied sigh. His hair was matted down with blood on the right side, bloody tufts of hair stuck up on the left. 

“Hey Sammy,” Dean called setting the first blade on the cushion between him and the dead wraith slumped over the opposite arm of the couch. “You about ready to go? It’s dead in here.” 

Sam rolled his eyes with a huff of laughter; Dean still wasn’t as funny as he thought he was. He fetched a clean water glass from the closed cupboard, trying to keep his wince to a minimum as he kinetically gave the dead bartender a shove and her body crumbled to the ground, clearing his way to the sink. 

He filled the cup with tap water and rinsed the metallic tang out of his mouth –a familiar side effect of using his power excessively- before taking a long drink. “I’m ready when you are; the headache is starting.” 

Since Sam had replaced his demon blood from anything available to Only Dean, his headaches were few and far between. The power in Dean’s veins could easily last him twice as long as a regular demon, but that didn’t matter when he overexerted himself as he’d done tonight. 

“Or,” Dean cooed from across the room, “we could do something about that now.” He leaned back on the couch and spread his legs in an inviting manner. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at the still wet blood dripping from Dean’s hair and clothes. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.” 

Dean stood with a scoff and concealed the First Blade in the fold of his clothes with a familiar slide of hand, “Buzzkill.”

# 

Sam sat in his boxers at the motel table, his wet hair occasionally dripping onto his bare shoulders as he flicked through his email. It was always impressive that the number of spam emails far outnumbered the number of Hell related emails in his inbox. 

During yellow-eyes reign, he had placed a Demon, Cecily, inside the NSA to listen for possible deal candidates. Since she voiced her support of Sam's Boy King position, she'd made herself invaluable in providing them with information of all kinds. Cecily was the one who put the Chicago monsters on their radar as a possible means to sate Dean's blood lust. 

Clicking open an email with the subject “Anti-Boy King Resistance” Sam browsed through the latest report. 

Meg was still out there hating his guts, her rebellion holding at an impressively high number. She’d recently made a power play, a hurricane along the west coast. The weak minded demons were always drawn to demonstrations of strength. It didn’t concern Sam, those loyal to him tended to stay that way. 

In addition to Meg, Lilith was still out there wanting his head on a platter. Apparently, he’d messed up her plans before they’d had the chance to get off the ground.

It wasn’t Sam’s fault everyone had underestimated how stubborn he could be. 

He smiled to himself as Dean’s off-key singing carried over the sound of the shower. If given the choice Sam would do it all over again in a heartbeat. 

Sam typed out a response requesting Cecily keep an ear out for their description in connection with satisfying Dean’s latest bloodlust on their Chicago visit, and to notify him immediately with any information regarding Meg’s current whereabouts. 

A request from him was as good as a command, and they both knew it. He was positive Cecily would send someone to contact him if something came up. 

Dean came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but the amulet and a towel around his waist. His hair, now free from blood, was lying flat on his head, clean of any of the product he used to spike it. The freckles along his nose, cheeks, and chest stood out against his flushed skin, pink from the temperature of his shower. 

Sam felt his dick give a twitch in his boxers in anticipation of getting his hands on the expansion of Dean’s chest.

“What’d you get for the winner’s circle?” Dean asked, unfazed that he was initiating a conversation while towel drying his balls.

“Uh,” Sam glanced down at his computer before looking back at Dean, “an understanding that the structure of corporations was something humans learned from-“

Dean cut him off with a scoff and a wave of his hand, “Not that. What’d you pick me up for dinner because I kicked your ass back there?”

Sam saw the teasing for what it was. “You’re delusional; I totally took out more than you.”

“In your dreams Jean Grey!” Dean protested, ignoring Sam’s bitch face for the nickname, “I had at least five hit the ground before you even started snapping necks.”

Sam closed his laptop with an air of finality, not rising to Dean’s bait, “Thought we might go out after you’d showered and I’d recharged a little.” 

A hungry smirk curled at the corner of Dean’s lips as he held his arms out, an offer for Sam’s inspection, “Clean enough for your majesty?” 

“Let’s find out.” Sam purred, “Lay down on the bed.” 

Dean shot him a predatory smirk and crossed the room to lie on his back in the center of the bed. 

Sam stood, pressing his hand against his rapidly hardening dick, he snagged his pocket knife as he moved to stand beside the bed. Dean’s half-lidded green eyes watched him as Sam tugged his boxers off, Dean palmed at his dick through the terry cloth towel. 

Sam ran his fingers through Dean’s damp hair, making a show of checking Dean’s scalp for blood that Sam knew he’d already washed away. Dean palmed the back of Sam's thigh to urge him to climb onto the bed. 

Following Dean’s guiding hand, Sam straddled Dean’s hips. His ass settling over Dean's hard dick he could feel through the thin layer that separated them. Sam rocked his hips, grinding down on Dean’s erection to feel the press of that hard length against his hole. 

A groan escaped him when Dean’s hands clamped down on his hips and thrust up to urge Sam to move faster. 

“Wait.” Sam panted, pressing a palm against Dean’s chest and knee walking to sit between Dean’s legs. He tugged at the towel, pulling it loose and uncovering Dean’s hard dick like removing wrapping paper from a present. 

Dean gave a hum of approval as the cool motel air touched his exposed cock. Sam ran his hands from Dean’s knees to his thighs, framing his hard dick and smooth balls with his thumbs before wrapping a hand around the base and kitten licking at the head. 

Dean had closed his eyes, but the unmistakable _snikt_ of the pocket knife told him what was coming next. He gave a low hiss as Sam made a shallow cut on the inside of his thigh. Sam’s warm mouth abandoning his dick to lap at the blood that appeared from the cut. 

“Fuck Sammy.” Dean cooed, dropping a hand to his brother's shaggy head. 

Sam continued to suck at the sensitive skin after it healed over and stopped bleeding. He pulled back and made another cut next to the already flawless skin. Prodding the cut with his tongue he coaxed more blood from the wound before it too started to stitch back together. 

Sam worked his way back up Dean’s leg, pausing to lick and nip at Dean’s full balls before moving to his other thigh and repeating the process.

Making a small incision, drinking from it until it healed, then moving on to the next. 

Dean was panting heavily by the time Sam felt he was finished with his legs. Pavilion response had Dean’s dick hard enough to pound nails because these sessions always ended with hot and dirty sex and this was shaping up to be no different. 

Sam sucked at Dean’s dick until Dean was relaxed enough not to resist when Sam pushed his hand above his head, exposing the underside of his arms. After straddling Dean’s hips again, Sam started with the same slow pattern of cut-lick-heal at Dean’s elbow and worked his way to his armpit, dropping a kiss to Dean’s lips as he switched arms. 

Once done, Sam sat back to survey for any missed blood. Dean’s hungry eyes watched him, filled with dark promise as he gave a small thrust of his hips. 

Closing the knife and dropping it to the night stand, Sam nipped at Dean’s nipple as he climbed off the bed and rummaged for the lube they kept in his backpack. Settling himself back over Dean’s hips, Sam popping the cap and squeezing a sizable amount into his hand. 

Quickly slicking Dean’s dick, Sam ignored Dean’s protest of “too cold you ass” before eased himself back onto the hard length. The first push against his hole had Sam panting and tilting his head back to avoid Dean’s hungry gaze. Experience had proven he would come far too soon if he were on the receiving end of that look for long. 

Sam licked his lips and concentrated on relaxing enough to take all of Dean’s length. They were both panting by the time his ass settled flush against Dean’s hips. 

Dean was gripping the pillow under his head hard enough he was sure he felt the fabric give under his fingers at one point. Sam had a hand braced against Dean's chest for balance, his fingers digging a delicious pressure into Dean’s ribs. 

When Dean gave a little roll of his hips Sam's almond shaped eyes -glowing yellow from the surge of unchecked power brought on by the intensity of the emotions between them- rolled forward to lock onto his. 

The look screamed of raw power and commanded respect. It was unsettling to see that look on Sam’s face. Even after all this time, something in Dean wanted to run from it, flee before he too was caught in the trap of the flaming inferno in front of him. 

Instinctually Dean’s eyes flooded beetle black, and Sam’s already tight hole clenched like a vise-grip around him. 

They both moaned loudly. 

Dean never had enough forethought to ask Sam if his reaction to the black eyes was from arousal or fear. A perverse part of him wanted it to be from fear because he didn’t want Sam getting his thrills from another demon. But if Dean was honest with himself, he didn’t want that because what that would mean for them. 

Sam must have been thinking along the same lines because they reached for each other at the same time.

Sam’s arm had caught one of Dean’s wrists before it left the mattress, and the other laced their fingers together and pushing it back down over his head. Sam leaned forward and captured Dean’s lips with his own, starting a steady rhythm as he bounced on Dean’s dick. 

Dean groaned and tipped his head back, panting as Sam licked along the edge of his lips. Dean flexed against Sam’s hold on his arms and Sam doubled his effort, leaning forward to brace himself against Dean’s arms. His cock dragging across Dean’s stomachs with each roll of his hips. 

They panted each other’s air as Sam lifted himself above Dean and fucking his hips down hard, occasionally ducking down to press wet kisses to Dean’s lips. 

“Fucking hell Sammy.” Dean praised lifting his hips to encourage Sam to stay on his dick for longer. 

Sam’s gave another groan and reached for his cock, giving it a few strokes. 

Dean fought his wrist loose from Sam’s hold to bat Sam’s hand away before wrapped his hand around the hard length. 

“Dean.” Sam gasped in lust, disapproval, and warning all in one. 

Dean gave the shaft a few pulls before thumbing the head, holding his hand still as Sam thrust into his fist. 

“Come on Sammy.” Dean taunted. “If you want to come with a hand on your dick you’re going to have to work for it.” 

Sam gave him a low growl with no heat and, worked his hips faster, rutting into Dean’s fist and snapping their joined hips together with a loud slap of skin. 

“Want you to come first, Dean.” Sam panted dropping a hand down to pinch at one of Dean’s nipples. Dean moaned and made his grip tighter for Sam to fuck into. 

Dean’s hips meet Sam’s thrust for thrust; their lazy pace was forgotten as they fought to get the other off first.

“Dean, Dean I’m going to come.” Sam panted fucking himself down harder. 

“Fuck Sammy.” Dean growled as he came first, Sam’s ass milking him as he pumped his come into that tight hole. 

Sam’s breath hitched as the warm come flooded him and he came with a shattering groan, striping Dean’s chest and stomach with his release. 

Sam pulsed in Dean’s hand, Dean's clever fingers teasing at Sam’s sensitive cockhead causing Sam’s inner muscles to ripple around Dean’s own dick. 

They moved together chased the aftershocks, Sam’s hips slowing as he pressed one last kiss to Dean’s lips before blanketed himself over Dean’s chest. Dean’s hand trapped between their stomachs. 

Sam tucked his face against Dean’s shoulder their quick heartbeats echoing against each other’s chest. 

As their heart rates returned to normal Dean could feel Sam start to drift off. His breath hitched when Dean freed his hand from around Sam’s now limp dick but otherwise he didn’t move. 

They were going to be stuck together from all the come if Sam was going to pass out now. 

“You still owe me dinner.” Dean muttered into Sam’s shaggy hair as he wiped his come sticky hand on Sam’s flank. 

“Like you _need_ to eat.” Came Sam’s sleep delayed response.

“Course I do. I’m a growing boy Sammy.” Dean teased. Of course, he didn’t need to eat as a Demon, but it was one of those things he wasn’t going to give up. “It’s not like I have to worry about dying from a heart attack now do I?” 

“Not sweating the calories, yeah yeah.” Sam slurred against Dean’s chest. “We’ll go out for breakfast before dealing with the Duval wolves.” He promised already half asleep.

Neither of them needed much sleep these days but apparently taking out an underground nightclub of monsters warranted all the Boy King’s batteries be recharged. Not just the psychic-whatever the demon blood gave him. 

Dean’s own battery was more or less recharged from tonight as well. The number of kills went a long way to sooth the itch under his skin. Even having Sam saddle up and ride him calmed something in him. Something to be said about knowing his king/brother/lover was sated. 

Confident he was going to be used as a human pillow for the next few hours Dean groped for the remote and settled back against the mattress with the TV on low.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Powers!Sam  
> Human!Dean

**THEN**

The weeks leading up to the end of Dean's deal had been hard for Sam. 

Dean had finally admitted he didn't want to die, and Sam had been frantic to find a way to prevent it from happening. In the end, it hadn’t been enough. 

Dean had died before his eyes, shredded by hellhounds while Sam could do nothing, pinned by Lilith’s invisible hand.

It had been a week since they’d buried Dean and Sam hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time. Every time he closed his eyes he heard and saw Dean screaming for him. Alcohol went a long way to drop him into dreamless sleep.

Ruby had found him holed up in an empty cabin in Indiana.

“What happened to you?” Sam asked, not convinced he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Banished from my own body. I’ve been in hiding since hoping Lilith didn’t pick up my trail.” She answered eyeing the shattered remains of the bottle Sam had thrown against the wall the first night he stayed here. “The better question is what have you been doing? You’re a sitting duck here; anyone could come by and find you.”

“Anyone just did.” Sam muttered into the lip of the bottle. 

“You should be preparing to go after Lilith. Get some revenge.” Ruby said crossing her arms. 

Sam clenched his jaw. He didn’t even want to think about her. "No."

In his drunken state, Sam couldn’t tell if Ruby had frowned or if the shadows were playing across her face as she moved towards him. "Lilith could have stopped the hit on your brother, but didn’t. You’re telling me you don’t want to give her what she’s got coming?”

Sam shook his head, "Killing Lilith wouldn't bring Dean back.” He took another long pull from the bottle, “Wouldn't help me save him." 

The abandoned building was silent for a long time as Ruby stared at him and Sam stared at the wall.

“Dean would be disappointed in you.” Ruby finally said. “He wouldn’t want yo-“ 

“You have no idea what he would want!” Sam roared, hot tears clouding his vision, “I know he wouldn’t want me to get myself killed trying to avenge him!" Sam waved the almost empty whiskey bottle around, "I know he wouldn't want me drowning myself in the emergency stash! I know he wouldn't want me anywhere near you." He turned his back to her and took deep calming breaths, half a moment from sinking to the ground and completely breaking down. 

Ruby watched him for a long moment, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Are you desperate enough now?” 

Sam glared over his shoulder at her, “You have nothing to offer me, Dean’s already gone.” 

“He’s in Hell.” Ruby agreed. 

Sam felt guilt threaten to choke him, he took a shaky breath and then another drink to force it down. “You- you’re a bitch.” He informed her, the heat of anger already drained from him. 

She rolled her eyes, “And I’ll ask you again, are you desperate enough now?” 

“Miles past desperate.” Sam muttered as he took another long swallow from the bottle. 

“Then go after Lilith.” Ruby urged, “ _Make her_ give you Dean back. If she held Dean’s contract, then she might have the mojo to bring him back.” 

“Like a deal.” Sam scoffed in disbelief.

Ruby gave him a humorless smile, “Wouldn’t be much of a deal when you’re the one making demands.” She took a step closer to Sam, plucking the bottle from his hands, “I told you I couldn't save Dean, but you can.” 

Sam shook his head and took the bottle back, moving across the room away from her, “And all I have to is- is become your anti-Christ superstar?” The echo of Dean saying it days ago screamed in his ears.

“I can teach you everything I know, but you have to be willing.” She paused a moment, “And sober.” 

Sam settled in the chair across from her, “You get one.” He announced and set the bottle on the table between them.

# 

Outright telling Sam he had to drink demon blood had him recoiling even though he could see the logic in it. It was demon blood that gave all the Special Children their powers so why wouldn’t demon blood make it stronger? 

Ruby found creative ways to get him to choke it down. 

He threw up after the first swallow when she handed him a still warm cup. Drinking it from a flask seemed to get his mind around the _drinking blood_ aspect of it even though it tasted like old pennies.

A month in and Ruby disappeared. It wasn’t uncommon for her to leave for a stretch of a few days, always citing something about creating a diversion for the demons on their trail. Sam never had reason to doubt her. 

Even now as Sam’s head swam and his stomach rejected everything he tried to eat, he knew Ruby was out there keeping Lilith off their ass. 

She wasn’t answering her cell, and he was out of the herb that could summon her. 

Another ripple of pain spread through his limbs and resettled in his head, pulsing. If he could just call her and maybe have half a cup of her blood, his headache would go away. Just the smallest bit of demon blood would hold him over until they were safe again. 

As he sat panting on the floor of the motel bathroom, its last mopping had to have been before Regan was president, a thought occurred to him: If it was too dangerous to be around Ruby maybe he could get another demon? 

With a half-formed plan in mind Sam tucked Ruby’s knife in his belt and grabbed the Impala keys.

The nearest unpaved crossroads was a few blocks away from a hospital. (Small back countries didn’t care to pave everything. Their objective was to make the city blocks between the interstate and the hospital nice, and no one would be the wiser.) Sam was in so much pain he didn’t care about the risk of letting a crossroads demon loose so close to possibly desperate civilians. 

The box went into the ground, and Sam hadn't even tried to rise to his knees before a demon cooed at him. “Wow Sam, I could smell your misery from the pit.” 

The crunch of dirt under its shoe told Sam the demon was circling him. A secondary pull from within Sam’s mind informed him the demon was looping closer. 

A shadow fell over Sam’s bent form as it continued to try and get a reaction out of him, cooing in a mocking tone, “Your brother know you’re using?” 

Sam tilted his head to look up at the demon. 

It was a male nurse around Sam’s age. Dark eyes, product spiked dark hair, blue scrubs bright in the afternoon sunlight. 

The demon crouched on his haunches and tilted his head a bit as it regarded Sam, “You’re getting worse and worse every time one of us answers your call.” It commented idly before leaning forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Hitting the needle isn’t going to help anything Sam.”

Sam moved before his feet were under him, taking the demon by surprise. 

Sam managed to tackle the demon and pull the knife from his belt to run it across the side of its neck. Sam bent to suck at the open wound before the blood welled up from the open wound.

His headache receded with each swallow, and it took Sam a long moment to realize the kicking and flailing he’d expected was strangely absent.

Sam jerked away, still crouched over the demon and held the knife at the ready. He was met with unblinking red eyes watching him. “All you had to do was ask.” The demon purred.

Realization slammed into him at what he’d just done. He’d drank from a crossroads demon. The vessel was a nurse, so the chances of it having something truly nasty in its blood was minimal but _he’d drank from a crossroads demon_. 

Sam’s hand shook as he held the knife in a tight grip. “Why?” 

It grinned up at him with borrowed pearly white teeth, “Boy King owing me a favor? How can I say no to that?” 

Sam watched it for a moment before it tilted its head to the side, exposing the blood running down its neck to pool on the ground. 

“Up.” Sam commanded, fisting a hand in the scrubs across its chest. 

Sam held Ruby’s knife to its neck as he got them to their feet, the nurse couldn’t have been over five and a half feet tall. 

“What did you mean "Boy King owing you a favor"?” Sam demanded, watching the blood start to discolor color the scrubs. “Quickly.” 

The red that indicated it was a crossroads demon faded from its’ eyes, “After you take over downstairs just look the other way when I make an unauthorized trip back here, huh?” 

Sam shook his head as he mentally shoved back what the demon’s request would possibly be, “No, why did you call me that?” 

The demon gave him a lazy smile, “I got a boss that talks highly of you. Says you’re going to bring about a new age of Hell. Gotta say I wouldn’t mind a little change. Anything you come up with has got to be better than how she’s running this division.” 

It was on the tip of Sam’s tongue to question the division comment; Had Hell had been using Corporation terms before big business came around, or was that something humans picked up in the last 200 years? 

“Your boss,” Sam rediscovered his focus, “does he know anything about bringing humans back? About how to get them out of Hell?” 

The demon’s high pitch laugh made Sam flinch. “Demons can’t bring people back to life. Too much red tape.” It made an effort to get it’s laughter under control, “And because no demon is going to make a deal with _you_ , you’re better off going in and getting him yourself.” 

“Not funny.” Sam growled as it brought a surge of helplessness. Getting Dean out himself was exactly what Sam had wanted to do, but knew it was impossible.

Its eyes lit up, and it gave him a small smile, “Boy King thinks I’m joking.” He said in a sing-song voice.

Sam glared at the demon then started reciting the shortest exorcism he knew. 

“Wait! I’m-” It gave a full body shudder, “I’m leaving on my own. No need to get fucking nasty.” 

Sam paused, and the demon gave him a measured look between its panting breaths. “This doesn’t count as my favor.” It said curtly before the nurse threw his head back and black smoke poured out of his open mouth. 

Sam tucked Ruby’s knife in his belt and exchanged it for the handkerchief in his pocket, apply pressure to the still bleeding cut along the nurse’s neck before the last of the demon smoke vacated. The nurse wasn’t in danger of bleeding out because Sam had missed any major arteries, but it was still technically a head wound and would bleed a lot. 

Sam wasn’t worried about dropping the now empty host off at the hospital, no one would believe the guy’s story anyway. 

_”A guy cut me to drink my blood, and I let him, and then we talked about getting people out of Hell.”_

Wouldn’t make the guy sound crazy in the least, Sam scoffed to himself as he settled the nurse into the Impala. 

As short as it was, that ride to the hospital had made the inside of the Impala smell like blood. The smell didn’t leave the car until long after Sam parked the Impala and crawled in the back seat for the night. 

He assumed the charms to keep the Impala hidden were working because when he slept in the Impala Ruby wouldn’t show up until he’d stopped somewhere for breakfast or gas. The night he knew he was hidden behind the only home he’d ever known, he let himself miss Dean. 

Wondered what Dean would think of all this. 

What he would do when he found out the lengths Sam was going through to get him back. 

It hurt to think Dean would hate him for this, but he knew it was a very real possibility. Sam was blatantly using the powers given to him by the thing that killed their mom. 

He didn’t want to dwell on the fact the woman who birthed him, a woman he’d never met, might be disgusted with him for the choices he was making now. 

It was a consequence he was willing to live with Sam decided as he lie in the backseat he’d outgrown years ago. His head pillowed by one of Dean’s still unwashed shirts. Dean’s familiar warm leather and forest smell was fading from all the clothes and Sam decided he wanted to have Dean back before they all lost his scent. 

Remembering what Ava and Jake said about flipping switches, Sam was determined to learn everything he could and not lose himself. 

He threw an arm over his eyes and tried to sleep.

# 

Ruby showed up two days later with a half ass apology Sam wouldn’t have questioned if he’d be in the state he was three days before. He took the flask of blood she offered him and took two large swallows of the thick liquid. 

His conversation with the crossroads demon had been on repeat, over and over again in his mind. 

If demons couldn’t bring people back there was nothing he could hope to gain by going after Lilith. Whatever objective Ruby was driving him towards, whatever she was hoping to gain from this herself, wouldn’t match up with what Sam wanted. 

He knew that. 

Somewhere deep in his soul, the voice that always sounded like Dean, told him he was a moron for trusting her. 

Granted, going on the crossroad demon’s intel wouldn’t be a better choice, but at least that demon wasn’t stringing him along like a junkie. 

Later that same day Ruby directed him to a demon she had trussed up for Sam to practice on. It was almost comically easy how quickly he was able to exorcise it. 

Ruby was thrilled and Sam could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. If leaving him strung out for that long made his skill grow in leaps and bounds she was going to start doing it more. 

# 

Sam hated being right sometimes. 

Within three days she had another excuse to leave, conveniently forgetting to top of the flask he was already more than halfway through since the night before. 

Sam didn’t wait for the headache to start before he started omen-tracking a nearby demon. 

Treating it like any other case he laid down a few devil’s traps and waited. Just after midnight, a middle-aged man stood in the circle, cursing up a storm. 

It outright growled when Sam walked up to the edge of the circle. “Fuckin’ Winchester.” It spat pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “No respect for natural order. Walking around like some hot shit because your brother don’t know no better.” 

It was as good as any place to start. “Can a demon get my brother out of Hell?” 

The pacing suddenly stopped and it started at him for a long moment before throwing its head back and laughing long and hard. “Not even the 3rd can do that!” 

“The 3rd?” Sam repeated. 

It huffed a laugh down and grinned at him, apparently Sam had humored it into becoming loose lipped. “The ones that fell when they followed Lucifer.” It said with a shrug, rubbing its nose on the back of its jacket sleeve. 

According to the Bible, One-third of the angels fell when Lucifer rebelled. They too were banished from Heaven into presumably Hell. It was the only 3rd that made sense. 

“So no demon can pull a soul from Hell?” Sam repeated.

Its mirth had died down. “You deaf as well as stupid looking? I just told you.” 

“Even Lilith?” Sam asked. 

“She might.” It nodded, “She was still running deals last I heard.” 

“Can she do it without a deal?” 

“Short-term memory is the first thing to go when you take one too many blows to the head.” It sneered. 

Sam held up a hand and grabbed the demon inside the human flesh. The _push-breath-and-pull_ had its eyes flashed in horror as it started to choke on smoke. 

“Answer. My question.” Sam said calmly before releasing it. 

It coughed once and held a hand to its throat, “No! No you dumb fucker! No demon, not even Lilith, has that much power to pull another soul out! Your dog food brother is too fresh to crawl out himself. He has centuries before he’s able to see the sun again.” 

Sam clenched his jaw and focused on holding the demon immobile while he filled two travel mugs with blood. Once done, he focused on pulling the black smoke from the host. After a long moment of mapping out the best place to pull the demon out from, Sam noticed the soft warmth hosts usually had was absent. Instinctively, Sam knew the man before him was dead. With a _push-breath-and-pull_ the body before him fell unmoving to the ground. 

# 

Sam still didn’t have a solid plan for rescuing Dean, but Ruby unknowingly laid out the next big step. 

Gaining allies.

Sam had gone three days of drinking almost four glasses of blood a day before asking Ruby for target practice. 

She was all too willing the drag someone in. 

They found an abandoned hunting shack in Utah and Sam habitually prepped for Ruby to find a demon. 

The demon she brought back had a hex bag hanging around its neck, hands tied behind its back, and a black cloth bag over its head. It unnerved Sam how powerful Ruby must truly be to wrangle in other demons.

She ripped the blindfold off and kicked it into the devil’s trap. Her shove sent it to its knees with a grunt. It turned around to bare its teeth at her before catching sight of Sam. 

The sneer turned into a Cheshire grin. “Your majesty.” 

Ruby turned to Sam, her eyes distrusting, “What is he talking about?” 

Sam gave the demon a neutral expression. Sam’s doubt the crossroads demon had been fucking with him died when Ruby’s voice turned high pitch, and she repeated the question. 

“I don’t know.” Sam finally said. 

Ruby’s eyes turned sharp, “Liar.” 

“What does it matter?” Sam scoffed, “It was a title that died with yellow eyes.” 

“Because it’s a title with power behind it and power draws attention. Attention that would be like a neon sign to Lilith when you choose to go after her.” 

Having his own demon army to fight against Lilith hardly seemed like the worst idea he’d ever heard. Sam bit his tongue that going after Lilith was Ruby’s cause, not his. 

Looking away to avoid Ruby’s irrational irate Sam met the demon’s black gaze over Ruby’s shoulder. 

It grinned at him and tilted its head back and to the side, silently offering a vein that held power for Sam. Sam turned back to Ruby before she noticed the gesture.

“Sam.” Ruby said, going all docile and batting her big doe eyes at him. “You know you can’t trust them. I’m the one that has fought beside you.” She put a hand on his arm, “I’m the only one who can help you.” 

Internally he recoiled from her touch but he stayed still under her hand. 

“Those ready to follow the Boy King say he’s accepting applications for allies. I’d happily put my John Handcock on that dotted line.” The demon’s peanut gallery comment went ignored.

“You’d help me off a cliff if it got you what you wanted.” Sam told her. 

“What I want is to help you use your gift for something good!” Ruby pleaded.

Sam felt his temper growing, “The only _help_ you’ve given me is to pump me full of demon blood, and then leave me for days feeling like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.” 

”Sounds like withdrawals to me.” The demon chimed in behind them. 

“You shut up.” Sam told it. The demon, unable to fight the direct order, fell silent. Sam turned his anger back to Ruby, “You keep telling me Lilith will be able to bring Dean back. That she’s strong enough-”

“She is!” Ruby cried.

“-but every other demon I’ve talked to has a very different story to tell.”

“Sam, you know you can’t trust them!”

“I don’t know if I can trust you either. You keep pushing me to go after Lilith when I’ve told you numerous times revenge isn’t what I want.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ruby said with an eye roll, “You’re like a broken record, you want Dean. But your only option-”

“Is to go get him myself.” Sam interrupted. The surprise in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. “It wasn’t lying.”

“It’s not someth-”

“Tell the truth.” Sam commanded. “If I follow what Yellow Eyes planned for me will I be able to get Dean out myself?”

Ruby fought against the command before spitting out, “Once you’re strong enough you’ll only need a guide to get you in and out of Hell.”

“Where do I find a guide?” Sam demanded.

“Almost any demon that managed to climb their way out of Hell could be your guide.” 

The demon in the devil’s trap, still silent from Sam’s earlier command, perked up. 

Sam watched Ruby for a long moment, her discomfort obvious as she shifted her weight from foot to foot under his stare. 

“Where you ever really helping me to bring Dean back?” He asked her softly.

Ruby clenched her teeth and glared at him, defying his initial command. 

“What were you trying to accomplish?” Sam asked, the demand evident to his own ears.

“I don’t owe you anything.” Ruby grit between clenched teeth, resisting his powers. 

Sam took a deep breath and calmed himself. Somehow Sam wasn’t surprised she was powerful enough to resist his orders if she really wanted to. 

_“What was your plan?”_ Sam said, forcing so much command as he could into the question that it made his own ears ring.

Sweat started to bead along Ruby’s forehead as she wrested with his command. _“Don’t. Lie. To me.”_ Sam growled from the well of power he’d found within himself.

“I am to persuade you by any means necessary to kill Lilith.” She bit out, fighting the admission brought her to her knees and she gasped for breath, “Lilith’s death by your powers is the final seal and it will free him. He will walk among us once again.” 

_“Killing Lilith will free who?”_

“Lucifer!” She screamed in rage as she couldn’t resist answering his direct question. 

Cold fear raced down Sam’s spine. There was no way she could be lying.

“What was the first seal?” Sam asked, stopping himself from reaching for the flash of blood tucked in his pocket. It was practically Dean’s dying wish he didn’t go down this path, cold dread settled in at the thought Sam might have inadvertently started all of this by believing Ruby’s lies and willingly drinking demon blood. 

“Burn in Hell.” Ruby spat.

Moving on adrenalin and instinct alone, Sam grabbed Ruby by the back of the head, fingers fisting in her hair and pulled her to her feet before thrusting her into the devil’s trap. 

The still warded demon scrambled as far away from Ruby as it could get within the circle. Sam grabbed the forgotten spray-paint and gave it a shake as he scraped his shoe across the circle. Ruby got to her feet and Sam held up his hand and slammed her back to the ground. 

The kneeling demon watched the exchange with wide eyes and gave a shriek of surprise when Sam grabbed its arm and hauled it to its feet and shoved it out of the circle. Sam dropped the demon to the ground and laid the spray paint down to complete the circle, releasing Ruby from his hold. 

Confident neither of the demons would be going anywhere anytime soon, Sam reigned in his emotions and asked again, _“What was the first seal?”_

Ruby glared up at him behind her curtain of hair, “It will be when the righteous man sheds blood in Hell.” 

Dean. She meant Dean. 

Another thought occurred to him. “Will be? It hasn’t been broken yet.” 

Ruby lifted her lips into a sneer. 

_“How much longer until I’m strong enough to pull Dean from hell?”_

Ruby pounded an angry fist into the hard ground, cracking the cement but unable to mar the ruins that made up the devil’s trap. “Two weeks, 1 liter a day, and meditation to manifest your abilities.” She gave a full body shiver as she shook off the command and pushed herself upright, spitting after him. “You’ll fail before you even reach the first gate! I’m not the only one loyal to Lilith and her cause! There are others that’ll tear you apart before you even get close to your brother!”

Sam drew the demon-killing knife from his belt and stepped into the devil’s trap. 

Ruby scrambled to her feet to attack him. 

Sam drove the knife into her black heart and grabbed a handful of her long hair forcing her to look up at him, “Nothing will stop me from getting Dean back,” The red lighting pulse of a dying demon flashed under her skin, “nothing.” Sam promised as he dropped the lifeless body to the ground. 

Sam turned his attention to the demon cowering right where Sam left it. It whimpered when he stepped closer and refused to look him in the eye. 

“You said there were others willing to follow me?” It nodded. “Take me to them.”

# 

It shouldn’t have surprised him the demon directed him to a mansion in upstate New York.

Sam was met at the door by a serious-looking man in a suit, he was possessed, and long dead by the feel of him. “Sir.” The man acknowledged with a tilt of his head, “This way.” 

Sam followed him through the house and was shown to a bright, naturally lit living room where a middle-aged man, another demon, was sipping from a half-filled tumbler. 

This host was dead as well.

“Samuel.” The demon greeted as he stood.

“It’s Sam.” He answered curtly, “That would make you Crowley?”

Crowley nodded and tilted the glass in his hand towards Sam, “Can I interest you in a drink?” 

Sam shook his head, “No thank you.”

Crowley gave a shrug of indifference and ushered him further in. 

Sam kept his defenses up as he crossed the room to sit opposite the demon. “Rumor has it you’re willing to help me,” Sam told him, keeping as many cards to his vest as he could. He didn’t want to put words in the demon’s mouth. 

“Right down to business, well then.” Crowley said easing himself into the armchair opposite Sam, “My reasons are purely selfish, of course. Our existence depends on your success, and I’m merely here to help facilitate that.” 

Sam regarded him for a long moment while the demon sipped at his amber liquid. 

“I need to be able to trust you.” Sam finally told him. 

The demon’s lips turned up in a humored smirk, “I’ll be the first to tell you that you’d be foolish to trust any of us completely.” 

Sam couldn’t help but nod along. It was true. 

The demon continued, “I’m told you are willing to lead but have ulterior motives for taking the crown.” 

Sam nodded again. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide the fact his goal was to save Dean. He told the demon as such. 

Crowley didn’t look happy with the answer, but it didn’t deter Sam because he wasn’t going to lie. He also wasn’t going to make any promise he might have no intention of keeping when the time came.

“Going to have to get used to this uncomfortable level of honesty aren’t I?” Crowley asked with a sigh, “You do know once you pull Dean from Hell you will be a target for Lilith and her flock because she pulled a lot of strings to get him down there.” 

Sam felt his anger flare, “Once I have Dean back I’ll tear Lilith apart limb by limb. They’ll never lay another finger on him.” 

Crowley stared him down with a weight that no doubt caused lesser demons to cower in fear. 

Sam didn’t break eye contact. 

Crowley gave a pleased little smile, “I’m looking forward to seeing the new age of Hell you bring.”

Understanding fell in place in Sam’s mind. This was the boss of the possessed nurse. There were a lot of demons that had -Sam wasn’t sure if it was “faith”- but they definitely thought he could change things. 

There were a lot of things Sam would change about how much free reign Hell had on Earth. If Dean hadn’t been able to make a deal, he would still be driving around in the Impala while Sam was the one six feet under in a pine box.

“Help get my brother top side and you’ll have a front-row seat.” Sam promised. 

Crowley’s eyes lit up at the prospect of power under Sam’s reign. “In that case allow me to be you guide and I’ll get you in contact with some witches on our payroll.”

# 

The witches Crowley introduced him to had sworn themselves to a dark lord centuries ago. 

With their combined knowledge, and Crowley’s warehouse full of spell work oddities, they were able to craft a spell that would restore and heal Dean’s body so Sam would have something to return Dean's soul into. 

Waiting for the Moon to come into its Full phase was a test of patience for Sam. Almost half a month of exercising his powers, drinking blood like it was going out of style, and praying he wouldn’t be too late to save Dean.

Once the night came, it took hours for the witches to set up a perimeter around the grave, placing herbs and flame in equal measures. 

Another place had been marked on the other side of the clearing, this one a portal Sam could travel through to reach Hell. 

Sam was doing everything he knew to prepare for being surrounded by demons that would possibly want his head in the next few hours. 

He was mere hours away from rescuing Dean. In Sam's excitement, he’d almost bleed the demon who offered its blood dry. 

The hickeys he left around the cut on the host’s neck stood out angrily against her dark skin. 

The demon had barely enough strength to mutter, “Anything for the Boy King’s cause.” 

Sam pet her curly hair as a silent thank you while they waited the long moments between consumption and the surge of power.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy King!Sam  
> Human!Dean

**THEN**

Watching Sam grow up Dean knew his little brother to do some pretty weird things. 

Asking for Mac & Cheese with Marshmallow fluff because his imaginary friend told him it would be exotic. 

Letting his flopping hair hide the side of his head he had to shave after the Nair/Shampoo prank. It had left patches, and Sam refused to shave his whole head(and not once did he spike it into a Mohawk because that was too _awesome_ for his geek brother). 

But the weirdest, by a long shot, was seeing Sam sit calmly on the ground and watch as Dean crawled out of a pine box, through the damp Earth, and into the sun. 

Dean lie panting in the small clearing, savoring the fresh air rushing in and out of his lungs, the screaming echoes of Hell fading from his ringing ears. 

The crinkle of a thin plastic water bottle had Dean rolling to look up at the uncapped water bottle Sam was offering him.

Dean took the bottle and drank.

“Are you really Sam?” Dean asked after he’d drained the bottle. 

Sam bobbed his head once, then offered Dean a pear from a backpack sitting at his hip. 

With only a moment’s hesitation Dean accepted the pear and finished it almost as fast as the water. 

“How do you want me to prove it?” Sam asked drawing his knees up to wrap his forearms around them. 

Dean focused back on the Sam-poster with a blink, “How did you-“ Dean broke eye contact and swallowed around the lump in his throat, “How did you find me in Hell?” 

Sam shifted like he wanted to move closer but Dean was grateful he kept the distance between them. 

“I broke my promise and used my powers.” Sam murmured. He knew the details would cut Dean to the bone, but he continued, knowing if he didn’t explain himself now Dean was never going to let him. “Ruby told me I could save you and that was the only thing that mattered.” 

“Of fucking course Ruby.” Dean scoffed and threw the core of the pear towards the forest. The ants and birds would pick it clean. There was movement near the tree line, about 60 yards away, a man and a woman standing together. Watching them. 

“Ruby is dead.” Sam told him. “I killed her.”

The information had Dean abandoning his planned angry stomp off to settle cross-legged across from Sam. 

They sat in silence and watched each other for a long moment before Sam tugged at his shirt collar, hooking his thumb around the leather cord resting there. He pulled the horned necklace over his head and with a small smile he offered it to Dean.

Dean’s eyes lit up, and he took the necklace with a breathy “thanks”. Dean’s eyes were soft as he cradled the necklace in his hands before taking it by the leather cord and pulling it over his head.

They both stared at it as it lay against Dean’s chest. For the first time in three months, peace settled over Sam’s mind. 

“Dean, I have to tell you something.” Sam started, not taking his eyes off the necklace. “I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you to dwell on it, but Cold Oak... it was a trap to get all the psychic kids to kill each other.” 

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to hear about what lead up to the worst hours of his life as he sat with Sam’s lifeless body and figured the quickest way to kill himself. “I know all that Sammy.” 

Sam shook his head, “Did you know that Jake’s ability gave him practically Superman strength? That one of us could stop a human heart with the smallest physical contact? That Ava was able to control Demons with her mind?” Dean narrowed his eyes, but Sam plowed through his unvoiced question, “She learned it after helping us with Gordon. It took her five months to control the weakest of Demon.” Sam looked away from the horned amulet and into Dean’s eyes. He wanted to see the look on Dean’s face when he destroyed his world. Needed to know for certain how horrified Dean would be at what he’d become. “I mastered it in two.” 

Dean paled, and his voice broke around his protest, “But the yellow eyed demon is gone.” 

Sam nodded, “But the demon blood he fed me the night we lost mom isn’t.”

Dean got to his feet so quickly Sam was sure he was going to make a run for it. The thought hurt, but Sam had already considered once Dean heard everything he wouldn’t ever want to see his freak of a little brother again. And Sam was going to respect that, he was, but he needed to tell Dean the whole story first because hearing it from anyone else would make it so much worse. 

Sam unfolded himself and stood to follow. As fate would have it, Dean only made it as far as the other side of the grave he’d crawled out of not 20 minutes ago and started pacing. The simple twine tied wooden cross that served as Dean’s head marker stood between them. 

“Fucking shit Sam.” Dean swore as ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He stopped as if to say something before cussing again and beginning his pacing anew. 

“I wanted to tell you about the blood. About mom.” Sam begged, “I swear I did, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what the demon blood meant at the time.”

Sam recognized Dean forcing any feelings about mom down. A part of Sam already knew Dean would turn a blind eye to whatever involvement mom had in this; that nothing could touch her perfection on the pedestal Dean had placed her.

“But now you do?” Dean demanded. 

Sam dipped his head and nodded. 

“Does this mean you’re a demon too?”

Sam fought the urge to shy away from the question. “I- I don’t know what that makes me.” 

At Sam’s tone and phrasing Dean stopped pacing and turned towards him, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Sam took a deep breath and reminded himself he was telling Dean everything. “They call me the _“Boy King”_. A few drops of Yellow Eyes’ blood gave me visions, and liters of demon blood make me strong enough to decide who belongs in Hell and who doesn’t.” 

Dean started breathing heavy, a sign Sam recognized as the beginning to Dean having a panic attack that if not controlled would lead to hyperventilation. 

“I’m still me.” Sam pleaded with his eyes for Dean to understand. “I’m still me, and I did this to save you.”

Dean shook his head, “I would never have asked you to do this.” His breathing continued to pick up.

Sam covered the ground separating them in one two large steps, pulling up short when he saw Dean flinch at his quick motion. 

Sam settled for pulling at Dean’s sleeve, “Dean, deep breaths.” 

Dean sucked in two consecutive deep breaths, and once Sam was satisfied he wasn’t going to pass out on him, he continued, “You didn’t ask me to do this.” Sam tugged again at Dean’s sleeve to make sure he had his attention, “Dean, I did this because I couldn’t live with knowing you were _in Hell_ because of _me_.” Sam choked back the lump in his throat focusing on the words he’d been rehearsing since he wrapped his arms around Dean’s battered soul in Hell. “If I left you down there nothing I ever did would be enough to live up to the sacrifice you made for me. You sold your soul for me. If I can twist this –this,” Sam floundered for words, “ _evil_ in me to do something good then I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.” 

Dean shrugged out of Sam’s hold on his sleeve, putting space between them and ran a finger through his hair. “What else can you do?” 

Sam clenched and unclenched his hands, “When I have enough- enough juice I can kill demons.” 

Dean watched him silently for a long moment. 

“When you,” Dean paused to gather his composure with a deep breath, “found me in Hell, you threw Alistair-” Sam didn’t miss the raw fear in Dean’s voice as he said the demon’s name, “-across the room like it was nothing.” 

Dean paced another few steps before turning to Sam, trying and failing, to not look uncomfortable as he admitted, “I thought it was another one of his tricks, and you were going to start tearing into me after he hit the ground.”

Sam’s mouth fell open in silent horror and his eyes burned with unshed tears as he realized it wasn’t the first time the demon had done something like that to his brother. The anguish was quickly chased away by fury for giving Alistair a quick death. Sam wrestled with his anger at the thought of what Dean must have endured while in Hell. 

Unware of Sam’s growing temper, Dean exhaled a shaky breath, “I don’t know if this is worse.” 

The quiet admission snuffed out Sam’s anger as here-and-now settled back around him. Sam knew the odds of Dean walking away from him after this were high, but it tore something in him to see it happening before his eyes. 

Dean gathered what he could of the façade he had to have known Sam could see right through. 

“I need time.” Sam felt tears burn again when Dean wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I need to- to get my head on straight.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, of course. We can-” 

“No!” Dean interrupted with panic in his voice, “Not us. Not-” 

In Dean’s pause Sam’s mind filled in the hundreds of possibilities for how he could end that sentence. 

_Not ever._

_Not with you._

_Not with a demon._

“-yet.” 

Dean nodded to himself but couldn’t bring himself to look Sam in the eye. “Not yet Sam.” 

Sam clenched his fists to stop them from trembling and bit his lip to prevent him from begging Dean to change his mind. 

He let Dean walk away.

# 

Dean lifted the nearest car and headed straight for Bobby’s. He needed somewhere he could collect his thoughts. Somewhere safe, somewhere he could drink and keep himself busy so all of this wouldn't suffocate him.

The first day felt like he’d lost Sam to Stanford all over again. It was something Sam had set his mind to, and there would be no swaying him.

It was like Sam’s silent struggle against the voice that called him a ‘freak’ his whole life had won. And the part that killed Dean was Sam had done it _for_ him. 

It made Dean’s heart swelled with warmth that Sam would give up so much to bring him back. But guilt always swallowed that swell of affection because Dean was responsible for this. Never in a million years would he have asked Sam to go this far. 

Dean would have pleaded that he didn’t deserve this type of devotion. Argued until he was blue in the face but he knew Sam would have done it anyway. 

That’s just how they were. 

When he sold his soul Dean found his purpose in life. To keep Sam safe, keep Sam alive. 

It was difficult to admit he’d failed. 

# 

It was a pleasant day as far as South Dakota weather went. Blue skies, light breeze, the perfect temperature for a dip in the river then sundry on the riverbank for hours. 

The Singer Salvage shop door was at half mass, failing to keep the rays of the sun from stretching along the dusty floor. 

Dean didn’t care to notice any of it.

It had been three days, and he couldn’t prevent his thoughts from wandering to Sam every time he tried to read through any amount of lore. 

Bobby had banished him to working in the scrap yard while he continued to bark orders on the hunter switchboard. 

Dean could tear apart and put back together an engine in his sleep so being mentally detached around shop equipment was far from the most dangerous thing he'd ever done.

He was banging around inside an old Ford when he noticed Bobby’s shadow stretch across the shop floor. 

Wanting nothing more than to be left alone with his thoughts Dean straightened from under the hood and grabbed the bottle of Wild Turkey he’d been nursing all morning and took a deep swallow. 

"What? Music too loud?" Dean asked with a challenging tilt of his chin, trying to get a rise out of Bobby. Anything to get the old hunter to leave. 

Bobby, the smart man he was, didn't take the bait. "Those omens buzzing about Kentucky-" He paused waiting for Dean to nod along. Dean wasn't hunting, but it was kind of hard to ignore hunters calling about how demons were being exercised from folks like it was a new diet fad. "-have two confirmed reports sayin' he stopped ‘em cold.” 

Dean grunted in acknowledgment and turned back to the Ford open in front of him. 

Bobby stood silently behind Dean for so long Dean had to fight back his flinch when Bobby spoke, “You have to know he’s still Sam.” 

Even with his back to Bobby, Dean didn’t allow himself to indulge in even a mild reaction.

Bobby continued, knowing Dean was listening. “He’s still your brother. And right now your brother is out there fighting the good fight without you.” 

Dean threw down the wrench, the clang drowned out by the music and Dean’s yelling, “He should have quit when I died! He should have given up hunting and put all this behind him when he put me in the ground! Buried the whole thing like it was a bad dream!” 

“You are the most hypocritical son of a bitch I’ve ever met!” Was Bobby’s answering yell, “You sold your soul when Sam died! You went to Hell! I’m not saying what that boy did was right, but you don’t get to cast any stones for what he did when he was grieving. You're both topside and this ignoring each other is pointless.” 

Dean flinched, fighting to maintain eye contact through Bobby’s reprimand. Bobby took another step closer and lowered his voice as if he’d realized yelling about souls and hell weren’t typical things mechanics argued about in an open shop.

“The first time that boy exercised a demon he came straight here.” Dean’s gaze snapped to Bobby, finding it impossible to look away. “He was so determined and scared he couldn’t even look me in the eyes. He asked if he was letting you down. If you’d be able to forgive him for what he knew he would become.” 

Dean swallowed a couple of times to find his voice, “You should have told him no.” 

Bobby shook his head in disbelief, “You trying to convince yourself or me?”

# 

Later that night Dean stared at the dark wood of Bobby’s ceiling. Sam might have accepted the gifts that demon forced on him but from Bobby’s sources it didn’t seem to have changed Sam. 

He was still out there saving people. "Fighting the good fight." 

While Dean had been- been dead, Sam had become something of the go-to-guy if you had a demon problem in the hunting community. Dean assumed he was keeping his “super powers” under wraps because Bobby hadn’t mentioned any hunters noticing anything suspicious. 

He was even still respecting the boundaries Dean put between them, he hadn’t tried to call and convince Dean to come back once. 

Listening to Dean was something Sam had never been too keen on respecting in the past. Dean lost count of how many times Sam woke him up with a blowjob since the summer of ’99. Boundaries were more like lines Sam liked to toe across every opportunity he got. 

Dean felt he had every right to be pissed. 

Sam had done exactly what Dean asked him not to do. And by the sound of it, Sam starting using that demon’s “gift” before Dean’s body had even gone cold. 

Dean ran a frustrated hand over his face. The whole thing was tearing at him because if he were in Sam’s shoes, he would have done the same thing. 

Had done the same thing by selling his soul. 

Dean wondered if this was what Sam felt like for the year his deal was due. 

Knowing your brother went above and beyond to pull your bacon out of the fire. The only difference, this time, is they didn’t know –metaphorically- when Sam’s date would come due. 

And deep down Dean knew leaving Sam to shoulder this alone wasn’t an option he could live with.

# 

Dean spent one more sleepless night at Bobby’s then set out meet up with Sam. 

Sam picked up on the first ring.

“Hey.” Came Sam’s calm greeting. It was a relief to hear his voice but at the same time, the indifference was infuriating. It was if they’d only been apart only a few hours instead of days. 

“Hi.” Came Dean’s simple response.

They were both silent for a long moment before Sam broke the silence, “Did you need something?” 

"I um- I mean,” Dean didn’t think it would be this hard, “where are you?”

Sam shuffling papers crinkled across the connection then his distracted response, “East of Douglas, Wyoming. I’m following up on a few things.” 

“Could you use some company?” Dean asked going for nonchalant.

The shuffling stopped, and Dean realized he was holding his breath waiting for Sam’s answer.

“Only if you want to.” Sam told him trying and failing, to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

“I do.” Dean exhaled in a rush to assure him. “I can be there by tomorrow.”

# 

Of course, Dean figured being the big brother allowed for some wiggle room in the truth department. Dean was 6 hours away when he called Sam, and he’d be there before nightfall. Giving him plenty of time to track Sam down before he was supposed to meet up with him in the morning. 

After two false starts Dean managed to find Sam in an empty house a distance outside of the town. 

The Impala was parked behind the building, half hidden by the overgrown shrub on the side of the house. 

Dean parked the stolen vehicle on the outskirts of town, shouldered his duffle bag and walked the two miles back to the house. 

From the bottom step he heard screaming and cursing from inside.

Instincts kicked in and Dean dropped his duffel to grab the gun tucked in the small of his back and silently open the front door. The entry way was clear and so was the large dining space. Following the frustrated screaming, Dean found Sam standing a few feet away from a man who was kneeling on the floor in front of him. 

Before Dean could let Sam know he was there the man’s face turned his direction, his eyes flooding black as he sneered, “And here comes the golden boy wonder now.”

Sam’s hold over the demon faltered as he turned to Dean in surprise, “Dean, what are you doing here?” 

The demon scrambled to his feet getting a foot under him before Sam was back on it, forced it face down and held it there. _”Stay down."_ Sam commanded. 

Sam ignored the answering frustrated scream and turned back to Dean.

Dean was watching the possible threat of the demon squirm and fight against Sam’s hold. Sam didn’t want to scare Dean away so killing the thing here and now might be a bit much. 

Especially because he had finally been getting somewhere with it. 

"I never said thank you." Dean said once he’d composed himself and lowered his gun.

Sam glanced at the demon squirming on the ground, "You would have done the same.” Sam dismissed, trying for indifferent and missing by a mile. “Call it even?” Sam finished, offering Dean an out. If seeing this was too much Sam wouldn't force Dean to stay with him. 

Dean grimaced at the prospect of leaving as Sam alone. He wouldn’t take the overture to go their separate ways now. Not this time. 

Dean gave a shrug, “Naw, I think this one might buy you a few extra favors from me.”

Sam’s shoulders sagged in relief at Dean’s admission, he was going to stay this time. 

They fell silent as the demon screeched and clawed at the ground.

"What are you doing to it?" Dean asked moving to stand a step beside Sam.

“Trying to find where Lilith is holed up at." Sam replied without hesitation.

Dean felt the blood drain from his face. "She's still alive?"

"You are my highest priority, I knew killing her wouldn't bring you back so I didn't even try."

Dean mulled that over. "What changed your mind?" 

Sam tilted his head towards Dean without looking at him, his eyes focused on his brother’s scuffed boots, "You didn’t want me around. I figured if you were going to be out hunting alone it would be nice to have one less thing to worry about."

Dean felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, how could have ever doubted Sam's loyalty?

"You shouldn't have to do this alone.” Dean told him, “And I shouldn't have walked away.".

"You were scared." Sam reasoned on Dean’s behalf. 

"I was terrified." Dean corrected. He didn’t miss Sam’s flinch at the admission. "Sam, there is a demon eight feet away that you're holding down with your mind.”

“I would never hurt you.” Sam said turning puppy dog eyes on Dean. 

Dean’s heart skipped as he saw Sam’s yellow eyes. 

Not the pale yellow like Azazel, but a rich gold. It covered his whole iris and the black of his pupils. Those unfamiliar eyes surrounded by intimately familiar features made a voice in the back of Dean’s mind start to scream _wrong!_ and _run!_. 

Dean forced himself to breathe and nod at Sam. 

The familiar puppy dog look morphed into an even more familiar pleased smile that made Dean feel like he was free falling because it banished any doubt this wasn’t his little brother. 

So Dean did what he always did when he was scared. 

“I know Sammy.” 

He lied.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy King!Sam  
> Human!Dean

 

**THEN**

Dean was surprised as anyone his worry for how they would fall back together was unfounded. 

It was almost too easy the way they went back to driving around in the Impala, Sam finding them cases as they drove 20 miles over the speed limit down empty highways. 

There were little things here or there that Sam could do that would make Dean’s hairs stand on end. 

Like be a walking EMF meter. Using their tactical signals to indicate where a ghost was about to appear. But it was nice to be the one to get the drop on a ghost for a change.

Dean took to carrying around the demon-killing knife these days. Only having to use it once because Sam was pretty good about keeping demons away from them or convincing them to follow his cause. 

Watching Sam was like standing in the middle of a field during a lightning storm. All that raw power and you never knew when it would strike or if you were just far enough out of its reach. 

It was a display Dean didn’t think he’d ever get used to watching. 

Even the drinking blood didn’t concern him as much as he thought it would. Dean felt that had something to do with the fact Sam went out of his way to not do it around him.

He often found Sam out on the back of the Impala, or outside the motel sitting on the curb, taking long sips from a silver flask.

“You’re going to get hepatitis.” Dean told him once as Sam sat on the hood of the Impala looking out over the setting sun of the southwest desert scape. 

Sam choked on the dark liquid and brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he turned wide eyes towards Dean.

“How do you know whoever-“ Dean gestured at the silver flask, “-doesn’t have like, the clap or something?” 

Sam ducked his head and swallowed, “Pretty sure gonorrhea isn’t transmittable by blood." They regarded each other in silence for a moment as Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't think it would matter because I’m immune to everything out there.” 

Dean came to lean against the hood next to Sam’s thigh, and they watched the long shadows creep further over the parking lot in silence. 

Sam sighed and caved under Dean’s silence, “You don’t think it’s-” he curled his lip but couldn’t get the words out. 

“No, I get it.” Dean told him without looking away from the sky on fire. “The blood is like engine oil. Sure the car can run on what little oil its got but the more lubed those metal parts are, the easier they all slide together.” Dean tapped a couple of fingers to his temple indicating Sam’s headaches. “Less wear and tear.” 

Sam had let out a bark of laughter so loud it had startled them both. Before long they were laughing and pushing at each loud enough a vacationing father came out of his motel room to tell them to knock it off.

# 

The last piece to fall back into place in their complicated, medically declared unhealthy, co-dependent relationship; was the sex.

Dean tried his hardest not to return Sam's lingering gaze, but as the days stretched into weeks, he couldn’t find a reason not to. 

The person sitting in the passenger seat was still his Sammy, regardless of what color his eyes would flash when the light hit them just right. 

Sam's laugh still sounded like home, soothing something in Dean’s chest. 

Sam still knew all the words -and hummed along out of tune- to all the modern songs that filled the white noise at diners. 

Sam still hadn’t quite figured out how to dry all of his hair before he came out of the bathroom, always dripping all over the place as it curled at the ends. 

He was still _Sam_. 

Which was how Dean could tell he was disappointed every time they got a room with two queen size beds and Dean claimed one as his own. 

They spent those last weeks before Dean’s deal wrapped around each other, and Dean could tell Sam missed it. 

Hell, Dean missed it too. He missed the smell of Sam’s skin, the tickle of Sam’s long hair as Dean held him close and mouthed at the back of his neck. 

But as often as Sam’s hungry gaze landed on him, Dean did nothing to return it. 

It reminded him painfully of that spring they tiptoed around this, long before they knew the taste of each other. 

It came to a head one night when Sam opened the bathroom door, accompanied by a billow of steam and a towel wrapped around his waist. He didn’t acknowledge Dean’s presence as he swiftly crossed the room and started digging through his backpack for clothes with one hand while the other kept the hand-cloth sized towel closed. 

Dean watched the flexing of muscle as piece after piece of clothing was shoved aside. 

Sam paused his rummaging, the hard line of his body tense as he addressed Dean without looking up at him. “If you want a picture I can pose?” 

“Playgirl wouldn’t buy the paper it's printed on.” Dean replied immediately, his first instinct to go on the offensive at being caught staring. 

Sam balled the briefs against his hip and let the jab slide as he walked back to the bathroom. Modesty they’d lost long ago was like a fortified barrier between them now. 

Sam came out in boxers and scrubbing at the front of his hair with the towel, completely ignoring the strains that dripped trails of water down his shoulders and back. 

“I want things to go back to how they were.” Dean admitted. 

Sam stopped pawing at his hair to peek at Dean from around the over-bleached towel. Dean was still sitting on the bed with his legs extended a beer in his hand, exactly where Sam had left him before the shower.

At Dean’s sincere expression Sam tossed the wet towel to the foot of his bed and knelt next to Dean’s crossed ankles. Mindful of the distance that Dean had silently insisted between them. 

“Why are you holding back?” Sam asked, the barest hint of kicked-puppy-dog-eyes sneaking into the expression. 

“Because…” Dean started before trailing off to stare down at his beer bottle like it held all the answers. 

“Because why?” Sam asked barely above a whisper. 

“Because I didn’t –didn’t know if you were really _you_.” 

Sam glanced down at the ugly bedspread under his knees, “But now you do.” He said dejectedly. 

“You’re still Sammy.” Dean corrected tilting his head up to look at Sam. “I don’t think you could do anything to change that.” 

Sam watched him for a long moment before coming to a decision. He moved slowly to stretch alongside the solid line of Dean’s body, looking at him with soft eyes and moving slow enough Dean could push him away if he wanted to. 

Sam braced himself next to Dean’s hip, leaning in to bring their faces a breath apart. They watched each other for a long moment, sharing a breath, neither of them closing the distance. 

Dean could tell from the tilt of Sam’s head he wouldn’t move unless Dean turned away. But the thought of Sam pulling away had Dean almost panicking as he reached forward and tangled his fingers in the wet, curling ends of Sam’s hair. 

“I’ll never be able to say thank you enough.” Dean breathed as he pulled Sam’s head close to rest their foreheads together. 

“You’re here.” Sam countered telling him with minimal words that was all he asked. Sam tilted his head to brush the tips of their noses together. 

Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of Sam freshly showered. 

He would be at Sam’s side as long as Sam would have him. Dean pulled back to tell him such, but the love and affection reflecting back in Sam’s eyes said Sam already knew. 

Setting the beer bottle on the nightstand, Dean pushed against Sam’s shoulder, encouraging him to lay back. Sam rolled onto his back, and Dean quickly moved to cover Sam’s nearly naked body with his own fully clothed one. 

Their lips pressed together as Sam hooked his heel over Dean’s calf, pulling him close. 

Dean pressed against the V of Sam’s legs, pinning him down as they relearned the taste of each other. The hint of mint toothpaste was on Sam’s tongue as he licked along Dean’s bottom lip. 

The bite of cheap beer in Dean’s kiss had Sam’s dick hardening in a Pavlovian response. Good sex used to follow a six-pack shared between them, back before demons and crossroads deals were even a thought. 

Chasing the taste, Sam cupped Dean’s face, his tongue sliding against Dean’s as Dean tangled calloused fingers in Sam’s damp hair. 

They started a slow grind together, Dean’s jeans abrasive even through the material of Sam’s boxers. Sam mewled at the rough friction, and Dean ran a hand down Sam’s side to his hip, holding him still while Dean focused on rubbing across Sam’s dick head where it was trapped against the inside of his thigh. Breaking the kiss Sam moaned and ducked his face to suck and nip at the side of Dean’s throat knowing how wild it drove him. 

Dean’s grip on Sam’s hair tightened, dragging is mouth away from the hypersensitive area of just below his ear. “Little cheating fucker.” Dean accused before dropping a kiss to Sam’s collarbone. 

Sam chuckled and preened under the kisses Dean rained down on his shoulders. The open mouth kisses he pressed against Sam’s chest as Dean worked down, pinching each nipple as he went just to see what kind of response he could get out of Sam.

Dean smirked to himself as Sam’s breath caught in his throat at the rough treatment, just as it always had. 

Dean mouthed along the V of Sam’s hip, amused as Sam jerked and tried to squirm away from uncomfortably light touches. 

“Dean.” Sam pleaded tugging at the jacket Dean was still wearing. 

Dean batted his hands away and sat up, his voice was husky with arousal as he commanded, “Take those off.” 

Sam obeyed and lifted his hips to slide his boxers off Dean turned to Sam’s bed, and more importantly Sam’s backpack, and unzipped the small side pocket, taking out the lube they’d always kept there.

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and shirt, toed off his boots, tore open his jeans and kicking them off along with his briefs before climbing back onto the bed. 

Sam could have laughed at Dean’s eagerness if he wasn’t already there himself. He watched the amulet sway as Dean crawled back over his body. The warm metal the lightest touch against his balls when Dean bent to drop a kiss just below Sam’s belly button. 

The uncapping of the lube sent a shiver of anticipation down Sam’s spine that was quickly chased away by his stomach muscles tensing hard as cold lube was poured over his belly. “The hell Dean?” Sam protested trying to sit up. 

Dean grabbed under Sam’s knees and tugged, dropping Sam back to flat on his back. 

“You don’t want cold lube, do you?” Dean asked, the faintest mischievous tilt of the corner of his mouth. 

“Jerk.” Sam accused arching his head back onto the mattress. 

Dean swiped a hand through the lube and smacked a sticky open palm against the inside of Sam’s thigh, “Bitch.” 

With the lube on his fingers Dean rubbed circles against Sam’s tight hole. Sam groaned and tilted his hips up, opened his legs further to give Dean better access. 

“Is this going to take long?” Sam asked in a pant, trying to challenge Dean to hurry the hell up. 

A kiss was dropped to the opposite thigh smeared with lube, “It’s going to take as long as it needs to.” Came Dean’s teasing promise as he thrust his finger in a slow drag in and out of Sam’s tight hole. 

At Sam’s groan of approval, Dean rubbed a second finger against his rim before sliding it in alongside the first. Pistoning them in and out had Sam making those throaty little moans that never failed to get Dean hot. Impatient to reestablish the part of their frayed connection, Dean ran his fingers through the now body-warm lube on Sam’s stomach and wrapped a slick hand around Sam’s hard cock to chase away the burning stretch of adding a third finger before Sam was ready for more. 

Sam fisted the sheets and willed himself to relax around Dean’s fingers. Three months had been far too long. 

The ache Dean’s death left couldn’t be filled by any toy -no matter how hot Dean found it- so Sam hadn’t even tried. The few times he did find solace in his hand was because he’d woke from a vivid dream featuring Dean. 

Feeling Dean’s hand stroke over his dick now was enough to push him over the edge, never mind it wasn’t nearly as much stimulation as he typically needed. 

Sam wrapped his larger hand around Dean’s, stopping him mid stroke. “Can’t-“ Sam panted, “I’m gonna come.” The glint in Dean’s eye told him if he hadn’t wanted to come he shouldn’t have said anything. “Dean, please.” Sam started, but Dean was already dipping his head to lick at the precome pooling at the tip of Sam’s dick. 

Sam arched his head against the pillows when Dean swallowed him down, ignoring the taste of lube in a way that Sam never could. The gag reflex Dean had learned to suppress by spending hours with Sam’s dick down his throat, hadn't been forgotten in their month's apart.

Dean twisted his fingers in Sam’s ass, searching for his prostate gland. He brushed over it and Sam threw his head back and moaned so loud the next room over could hear him. 

It spoke volumes of Dean’s character, and how much a gentleman he was, that he never got off and left his partner alone to get theirs. The only time Sam remembered Dean coming first and being unable to reciprocate was when Sam spent a long stretch of I-90 sucking down Dean’s cock. But once they got a motel Sam had lost track of how many orgasms Dean wrung out of him that night. 

Sam let out a loud moan again when Dean’s fingers mercilessly rubbed at Sam’s prostate while his tongue danced along the underside of his dick. With one last attempt to push Dean off and not have his first orgasm back together down Dean’s throat, Sam fisted a hand in Dean’s hair and pulled. 

Dean moaned in protest at the rough treatment and only came off Sam’s dick enough to wrap his lips around the head and suck, flicking his tongue against the slit and sensitive underside of Sam’s cock head. His fingers pumping in and out of Sam’s hole, rubbing at his prostate with every motion. 

Sam came yelling Dean's name while white lights danced behind his vision. 

Dean sucked his release down, rubbing hard at Sam’s prostate milking the aftershocks out of him. Sam didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he came to with Dean blanketing him and kissing at his jaw. 

Dean watched Sam blink back to himself and turn towards Dean with a sheepish smile that was so completely _Sammy_ it made Dean’s chest tighten with regret that he’d made them wait so long. Sam brought a hand up to tangle in Dean’s hair and pull him into a kiss. 

He rocked his hips against Sam’s, his cock dragging along Sam’s balls and smearing precome along the shaft of Sam’s unflagging dick. Sam’s now sensitive prick was deliciously trapped between their stomachs with the lube Dean had poured over Sam to warm up. 

They lazily kissed for a long while, the high from Sam orgasm simmering back down until he was meeting every rock of Dean’s hips with his own. 

Dean moved into a crouch and ran a hand through the lube spread over Sam’s stomach and slicked his dick with it. As he gave himself a few quick jerks, he noted Sam’s complexion still flushed from his hairline to his collarbone, something Dean always forgot to tease Sam about because he only noticed it right before or right after Sam orgasmed. Dean pushed two still slicked fingers into Sam’s hole one last time, double checking he wasn’t about to cause him any undue pain. 

Satisfied, Dean lined himself up and slowly pushed into Sam’s tight heat. Watching the way Sam’s forehead wrinkled as he arched against the mattress, his fingers fisting in the sheets in an effort to go Dean’s pace. 

“So good Sammy.” Dean praised, petting a hand down Sam’s side and gripping the back of his thigh. He braced himself and snapped their hips together, filling Sam in one quick movement that had them both groaning at the feeling. Dean panted, staying perfectly still as Sam’s clenched muscles relaxed around him, getting used to the stretch of Dean’s dick so deep in his ass. 

“So fucking good.” Dean groaned as he dropped a kiss to Sam’s chest. 

Sam hummed in agreement, panting short, harsh breaths into Dean’s hair, his heart racing under Dean’s lips. 

Dean tilted his head up to watch Sam fail to draw in much-needed air. He rubbed his thumb in small circles on Sam’s hip, “You doin’ alright there Sammy?” 

Sam gave a quick nod, “Yeah, it’s just,” he gave a humorless laugh, “it’s just been a while.” Dean dropped another kiss to Sam’s chest in a silent apology that Sam felt was completely unwarranted. “It feels good, though,” Sam assured him, hitching his legs around Dean’s waist, rocking them together and drawing a moan out of both of them. 

Not trusting his voice, Dean licked one of Sam’s nipples before working an arm under Sam’s back to press them together. 

“Missed you, Dean.” Sam moaned into the crown of Dean’s head. 

Dean squeezed his eyes closed at the admission and brought his other hand up to cradle the back of Sam’s head. He started a slow, steady rhythm, pistoning his cock in and out of Sam’s tight heat. Sam’s deep throated moans of appreciation went straight to Dean’s dick. 

Sam’s legs wrapped around Dean’s hips, his heels digging into the small of Dean’s back to encourage him to thrust harder. 

Pushing up to hover over Sam’s body, Dean took in Sam’s flushed face and lust blown eyes. He snapped his hips forward harshly on the next couple of thrusts to watch Sam’s mouth fall open in a breathy cry of pleasure. He grabbed at Sam’s thighs, unwrapping those long legs from around his waist to push them open with a hand at the back of Sam’s knees. Giving Dean the perfect view of his dick stretching open Sam’s greedy hole. 

Sam’s dick slapped obscenely against his lube covered stomach with each thrust, the sound drowned out by the wet slap of skin each time their hips met. Taking advantage of Sam’s flexibility, Dean pushed his knees to his chest, using the leverage to put his weight behind his thrusts. 

The amulet swayed between them bouncing off of Dean’s chest with every powerful thrust. 

Sam couldn’t seem to catch his breath, every snap of Dean’s hips rushed the air from lungs. It was so fucking good. Dean’s dark green eyes hungrily watching him, drinking in his every cry as his thick dick rubbed his already overstimulated prostate. 

Dean bent down to give him a peck on the lips, and Sam reached up to pinch at Dean’s nipples enjoying the deep moan it forced out of him. Sam trailed a hand down Dean’s sides and cupped at his ass as Dean plowed into him. 

Dropping another kiss to Sam’s lips Dean ground hard against him, the amulet bumping against Sam’s chin. 

Sam dipped his head and took the warm metal in his mouth, sucking lewdly around the leather between his lips. 

Dean gave an animalistic groan of approval and released his hold on the back of Sam’s knees to shove one leg over his should and the other around his waist before crushing their lips together. 

Sam gasped into the kiss as the new position opened him up further and created friction against his dick trapped between their slick stomachs. Dean’s tongue danced over his, briefly pressing the amulet to the roof of Sam’s mouth as Dean tongued at it. 

Dean pulled back just enough to pant a much-needed breath over Sam’s face and renew his relentless pace. 

Sam swallowed around the amulet in his mouth and breathlessly chanted out a phrase that never failed to throw Dean over the edge into orgasm. “Fuck me, Dean. Fuck me. Fuck me.” 

Dean’s breath hitched and with vigor Sam didn’t know Dean was capable of this close to orgasm, he doubled his pace, driving like a machine into Sam’s prostate with each thrust. Sam’s chanting grew breathy as the relentless friction against his trapped dick combined with the precision of Dean’s frenzied pace drove him to his second orgasm. 

Dean felt and watched Sam’s orgasm wash over him; Sam's tight hole was clenching down on Dean’s dick, that dirty phrase hitching in Sam’s throat. But what brought Dean off a couple of thrusts faster was Sam biting down on the leather between his teeth, unconsciously turning the amulet cord around his neck into a collar and pulling Dean closer as he arched against the mattress. 

Dean buried his face in Sam’s neck and shuttered through his orgasm, coming deep in Sam’s ass as the muscles spasmed around him. 

Sam panted and brought a hand up to rest on Dean’s shoulder, his body wracked with shutters as Dean’s thrusts grew slower and continued to ignite sparks from his trapped dick. 

Sam sucked his spit off the amulet and tongued it out of his mouth. “Dean,” Sam said shifting his leg that Dean still had over his shoulder. 

“Gumby.” Came Dean’s accusing huff as he pushed himself up, moving Sam’s leg off his shoulder and settling it around his waist before settling his full weight back over Sam’s body and continuing the lazy roll of his hips. 

They started at each other for a long minute before Dean leaned down and pressed their lips together in a lazy kiss. 

Dean gave a little-satisfied sigh and settled his forehead back against Sam’s collarbone. 

Sam ran a hand through his hair enjoying their closeness. 

 

By the time Dean’s dick was soft enough to slip out of Sam they were both half asleep wrapped around each other. 

Dean sat up with a groan and slipped into the bathroom. He cleaned the lube from his stomach, dick, and thighs before wringing out the washcloth and bringing it back to where Sam was still spread eagle on the bed. 

Another “Sam-ism” that Dean was less than pleased to recognize was his little brother’s unwillingness to move after sex. 

Even if it was to move _out_ of the wet spot. 

Once Sam’s skin was clean from the lube and come, Dean tossed the soiled washcloth towards the bathroom door and patted Sam’s hip, “Come on Samsquatch. Up.” 

Sam groaned as Dean pulled back the covers on Sam’s bed and slipped in. 

As Dean settled onto the too soft pillows, Sam was suddenly pressing against his side like the heat stealing leach he was. His long hair, still damp from his earlier shower and post-sex sweat, falling across Dean’s jaw and throat as Sam got comfortable on his chest. 

As Dean draped an arm over Sam’s back he wondered how he could have ever doubted this wasn’t his Sam. 

Dean dropped a kiss to Sam’s hair whispering, “Missed you, Sammy.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy King!Sam  
> Demon!Dean

  


**NOW**

Sam marveled at Dean's patience as he picked the lock to the mansion's study. Either of them could have kicked the door off its hinges but apparently Dean wanted to pick the lock.

Letting him take that last kill must have really done something to sooth his bloodlust, Sam mused.

The lock gave a telltale click then Dean was pushing the door open. He hit the light switch and with a hesitant sputter the lights kicked on, barely illuminating the space. 

The library had a rather impressive collection of books for being tucked away in a small room in the back of the house. But any collection close to a thousand years old was bound to contain a few interesting tombs. 

"This place is kind of shitty for as expensive as it looks." Dean said as he gave the books a bored once over. 

Sam didn’t look away from the worn spines, tracing the characters of a forgotten language with a critical eye. "Some of these books are hundreds of years old," Sam argued, "one of a kind." 

Dean dismissed Sam's apparent awe with an eye roll and flopped into the plush loveseat. He gave a happy sigh as the cushions had just enough give. 

"Who was next?" Dean asked as he wiped the blood from the First Blade on the arm of the sofa. 

Sam pulled a thick volume off the shelf and thumbed through it. It was written in Old Norse. Not the hardest language he’d ever had to understand. "Pick one. I was the most concerned with the wolves. Something having our scent was unnerving.” Sam answered distracted.

Dean gave a low hum of thought. “I still have a particular distaste for the Dijinn.” Dean mused, pleased with how much blood the fabric of the sofa had managed to absorb, he tucked the first blade into his jacket. Sam was still nose deep in the book when Dean looked up at him again. "What'd you grab?" Dean asked gesturing with his chin at the book Sam was thumbing through. 

"Think it's a lineage book. Here." Sam offered turning the open book for Dean to see.

Dean frowned at the pages and flipped through a few, "What language is this?" 

"Old Norse." Sam said sitting on the opposite arm of the chair Dean had wiped bloodied on. At Dean's silent raised eyebrow Sam sighed and took the book back. "When you know four of the modernized languages it evolved into it’s not so hard to read." 

Dean ran a thumb over the jean clad thigh Sam had rested against Dean’s shoulder, "You sure you wanna leave that- _pup_? You sure you're ok with leaving that pup at school?" 

"She's too young to know what the family did." Came Sam’s muttered response as he read, "She'll get some type of inheritance and live as spoiled rich kids do. She's something like 6th generation werewolf, control isn’t an issue.” The “ _we wouldn’t have to worry about her_ ” went unsaid.

Dean slid an arm around Sam's waist and pulled him into his lap. Sam ‘umpff’ed as he landed sideways in Dean's lap, his index finger between the pages acting as a temporary bookmark. 

Sometimes Sam wondered if Dean even registered his “little brother” was four inches taller and had about 40 pounds of muscle on him. The hand that settled across Sam’s lap and shifted him so his ass was between Dean's splayed legs indicated he didn’t.

"Hey," Dean said squeezing Sam’s hip, "you wanna?" 

Sam gave him a half lidded look of ‘ _really?_ ’ 

Dean huffed, "Can't tell me you're afraid of a little blood?" 

Sam rolled his eyes, "More like, the police could be here any minute and you want to get your dick wet." 

Dean ran a warm hand up Sam's back to cup at the back of his skull. "You think _we_ can’t handle police?” 

Conceding to Dean’s libido, Sam leaned over and set the book on the floor before turning back to Dean and rearranging them so he straddled Dean's thighs. He bracing his hands on the back of the sofa to lean in and nose at Dean’s cheek, "What did you have in mind?" 

Hands working under Sam's shirts, Dean teased at the skin above Sam's pants, stroked his fingers over the muscle and following the fine hairs to where they disappeared into the elastic of his boxers. "Was thinking I’d return the favor for the wakeup call this morning.” 

Sam smiled and hummed in agreement, “You’re welcome by the way.” 

“Shut up, I’m thanking you.” Dean teased working Sam’s buckle and jeans open. 

Sam groaned in approval as Dean’s warm hand wrapped around his cock. His other hand working Sam’s boxers down until the elastic framed the underside of his balls. 

Dean wiggled down into a slouch on the sofa until he could press a kiss to the tip of Sam’s cock. 

Sam watched from above as those lush lips parted and the head of his dick disappeared into the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. He gave a sharp exhale as Dean’s tongue flicked against his slit.

Instinctual fear raced down Sam’s spine as Dean blinked black eyes up. But it faded into arousal as Dean rubbed firm fingers against Sam’s balls, his eyes blinking back to their normal mischievous green. 

“Jerk.” Sam muttered, tangling a hand into Dean’s short hair. 

Dean gave a distinctive hum of an answer which Sam used to thrust further into Dean’s mouth. 

Dean’s throat spazmed around Sam’s dick for a brief moment before he composed himself and started bobbing his head. He gave the barest flicker of teeth against Sam’s dick in reprimand before returning to toying with Sam’s balls. 

The arms of the sofa preventing Sam from spreading his legs further to follow the too light touch of Dean second hand as it teased across his puckered entrance.

“Dean please.” Sam’s plea came out a lot more breathy than he’d intended. 

In answer Dean pushed a dry finger in to the second knuckle, forcing a gasp out of Sam and his grip on Dean’s hair to tighten. Dean swallowed around Sam’s length in apology before slowly fucking his finger in and out. 

At Sam’s open mouth panting, Dean worked in a second finger alongside the first. Sam’s grip on the back of the sofa threatened to crack the frame through the thick cushion. Never mind the fist full of hair Sam was probably pulling out as he forced Dean deeper. 

The temperature in the room ripped with heat before returning to normal, the stench of sulfur light in the air. The arrival of their unexpected –and unwanted- guest had Dean growling instinctively. The vibrations humming around Sam’s dick caused him to bite at his lip and bow forward until his forehead rested against the back of the sofa. Trying to prevent their uninvited guest from hearing his whimpers as his orgasm flooded Dean’s throat. 

Sam rode out the aftershocks as Dean swallowed around his dick, his thick fingers a light pressure rubbing against his prostate. 

Sam panted into the thick cushion as Dean removed his fingers before dragging Sam’s boxers over the curve of his ass. 

Hyper aware of the demon standing casually behind him, Sam snapped "What?" as Dean shimmied back into an upright position. His erection a hard line where it brushed against the inside of Sam’s thigh. 

"Don't mind me," Crowley drawled, "it can wait until you're done." 

Dean's fingers at Sam's hips flexed before he released Sam with a smirk and muttered, "There’s an idea.” 

Sam ignored the hopeful looks of his brother and their Hell Ambassador to sit up, fix his pants, and slide off Dean’s lap. 

"Pity." Crowley said before plucking one of the books from the shelf and flipping through it. Trying to make it appear he wasn’t getting right down to business. "There has been chatter Meg has reemerged." 

"Good." Dean said rearranging his erection through his pants before standing from the sofa, "Been dying to get at that bitch." 

"And she's not alone." Crowley continued. 

"How many do you estimate are following her now?" Sam asked. 

Crowley watched Sam for a beat then closed the old book with a snap, "Will never not be impressed by your ability to keep up," He put the book back on the shelf and casually put his hands in his slack pockets, "The latest report indicates she rallied another 200 "true believers" bringing her army close to a thousand strong." 

Sam brought his hand to his mouth to worry the pad of his thumb between his teeth while he thought. The gesture had Dean taking a step forward to position himself between Sam and Crowley. 

The demon approved of Dean actively protecting the Boy King. But not when Dean saw Crowley as the thing Sam needed protecting from. 

Even after all these months Crowley couldn't tell if Dean putting himself between them was a strategic move or a subconscious one. It bothered him because he still didn't know where he stood with these Winchesters. 

Self-preservation made Crowley loyal to Sam as the title of Boy King ensured Lucifer remained mint in his packaging and Sam ruled Hell. Sam in power meant Meg was the one on the run, not him. 

But if Dean, the unkillable Knight he'd become, saw Crowley as a threat while in his bloodlust state it wouldn't matter who Crowley was loyal to. 

“We can’t take on an army,” Sam said looking at Dean, who looked away in disgust but also conceding agreement with the statement, “but if we take out Meg it’ll be easier to overwhelm the factions her army will fall into.”

"We can take on an army.” Dean’s low voice reassured Sam before turning to Crowley, “Your powers-that-be give you a location?" 

"Her headquarters is a company called Niveus Pharmaceuticals.” 

That had both the brothers frowning in confusion. 

“What would a demon want with a pharmaceutical company?” Sam asked. 

“Found her calling as a lab rat?” Dean guessed. 

“More like a cat in heat.” Crowley corrected. “She’s been frequently meeting with an executive, one of Lucifer’s inner circle types, for the past few months. Niveus was a key player in getting the Apocalypse off the ground.” Crowley gestured at Sam, “You know, before Sam decided he rather liked getting his hands dirty." 

Sam looked at Dean who had his eyebrows raised in question. “Shall we?” 

“You know I’m always up for a road trip.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s leer. 

He saw road head in their imminent future.

# 

Sam was proud of the fact he was pretty sure Dean had to use some of his mojo to keep them from crashing once they got on the road. To add to his accomplished feeling, he was pretty sure the back of his head was missing hair from where Dean held him down. 

27 hours, and one sleepless night later, they stopped at a small coffee shop to borrow the free wifi. Dean had gotten Sam a drink that was more sugar than coffee just to be an ass. 

And Sam drank the whole thing just to spite him. 

The research pit stop proved to be more than a little fruitful. 

The temperature of the diner kick up a couple degrees as Sam’s anger grew while he read through the cheesy ‘Our Family’ section of the company. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Sam muttered. Dean jutted his chin in question without pausing from eating the homemade cupcake. Sam’s eyes flashed yellow and the salt shakers on their table started to rattle as he tried, and failed, to reel in his temper. “I’m going to fucking kill the son of a bitch.” 

Sam scanned a few more lines before slamming the laptop lid shut and standing. He forcefully stashed the computer into his messenger bag and telekinetically shoved his chair aside as he stormed towards the exit. 

Ignoring the horrified gasps at Sam’s exit from the table beside them, Dean shoved the last of the desert in his mouth and started after him. Sam was already halfway down the block before Dean got out the door. He watched Sam from a few paces behind as he stomped into an alley. 

The brick wall didn’t stand a chance against the combined force of Sam’s powers and his raw strength. 

Sam punched the wall so hard it caused a mini earthquake, unsettling the foundation of the building and cracking the bricks from the ground to the roof. 

“Whoa there Fezzik. You wanna share with the class?” 

Sam turned those yellow eyes on Dean and Dean’s hand instinctively flexed, longing for the first blade as a means of defense against the obvious threat. 

He easily shook the feeling off. 

“Brady.” Sam spat. 

Dean gave a hum of a humorless laugh, “Little Marsha-Greg roleplay in the attic with the sheet?” 

“Tyson Brady,” Sam clarified, “friend I had at Stanford. Dropped out of pre-med to spend the tuition his parent’s sent him on cocaine and brothels. Introduced me to Jess after I thought I’d gotten him clean the first time.” 

“What kind of friends did you have?” Dean asked scandalized. 

“Coincidences don’t happen to us!” Sam yelled, ignoring Dean’s question, “A friend that I had all those years ago turns up as the Vice President of a company we know Meg has stock in?” 

Sam screamed in frustration and punched another Earth-shaking fracture into the side of the building. “He introduced me to Jess.” Sam muttered pressing his forehead against the cracked brick. 

The anger exhausted itself into a simmering rage Sam wore like a cloak around him these days. Dean put a calming hand on Sam’s shoulder before tugging at his arm, urging him back towards the sidewalk. “Let’s direct this anger somewhere productive.” 

Dean guided him to the Impala, and drove back to the house they were squatting in. With their sleeping bags laid down together to make a king-size comforter they tore at each other’s clothes with frantic energy. 

There was no finesse as they palmed at each other, manhandling the other hard enough to leave bruises. Sam drinking deeply from the wounds Dean opened, prodding each with his tongue to keep the wound from sealing closed so quickly. 

Dean’s powerful blood working as a calming agent to re-center Sam’s raging emotions.

They spent another sleepless night in bed. 

Heading into the corporate headquarters they decided their FBI getups were close enough to business attire they wouldn’t draw undue attention. 

Dean dressed in as much of the monkey suit as he was comfortable, charcoal slacks and jacket over his unbuttoned pale blue dress shirt, saying screw-it to the tie. 

Sam was comfortable with the more formal style clothes, his dark tie a meticulously tied knot at his collar against his white dress shirt, the dark jacket fitted over his broad shoulders.

Niveus Pharmaceuticals was a clean looking building, hardly the pick of the litter for being a hive of demon activity. 

They checked in with the front desk, both wearing their most charming smiles as Sam explained he wanted to surprise his old college buddy with an unannounced drop in.

Brady wasn’t in his office when they let themselves in. 

“Doubt he’s gonna have a little black book lying around.” Dean said rounding said desk and forcing open a locked drawer. 

“That would be too easy.” Sam agreed, surveying the impersonal office space. He telepathically flicked the cat’s cradle and watched Dean turn to rifle through the filing cabinets behind the desk. 

Sam followed and accepted the files Dean handed him without a word and sank down into the lush desk chair. He flipped through the quarterly reports of several research divisions with disinterest. Other than the charts showing the disgustingly high profit from the inflated prices of live saving medication, there was nothing interesting in the file. 

Sam tossed the file onto the desk and turned back to watch Dean power arm another drawer open against the wall, “Anything good?” 

“Dude doesn’t even have petty cash in here.” Dean answered tossing a handful of meticulously filed documents back into the drawer carelessly. 

Sam felt the demon approach the closed office door. Seated in the chair, Sam kept his back to the door and waited. 

The office door opened almost soundlessly, “Gentlemen, can I help you?” 

Dean turned in mild surprise, a file open in his hands to regard Brady who stood just inside the office.

“Dean Winchester.” There was a touch of fear in his voice. “If you’re here-” Sam swiveled the chair around and Brady’s smile took on a touch of hysteria. “Sam.” 

Brady smiled and opened his arms as if for a hug, “Long time no see.” 

Sam didn’t move a muscle as he slammed the office door closed. “Brady.” He greeted watching as the demon in front of him shuttered when Sam wrapped power around him to prevent him from teleporting away. “Wish I could say it’s good to see you.” 

“But it _is_ good to see you.” Brady said moving across the room towards them, “All grown up and making your way in the world. I heard through the grapevine you’re jocking for the new title of King of Hell.” 

Sam gave a small indifferent tilt of his head, “You know how demons like to talk.” 

“Like blue hairs over coffee.” Brady agreed. 

Sam leaned back in the chair, fingers laced in his lap. “So tell me, what have you been talking about with Meg?” 

Brady rolled his eyes, all pleasantries of his act gone. “I’m not spilling company secrets for a second rate junkie and his unleashed pet, so take your dog and pony show somewhere else.” 

With a calmness Sam had learned to associate with Dean edging towards bloodlust, Sam watched Dean perch on the edge of the desk and give Brady a charming smile, “If you don’t want to tell us what you’ve been talking about, tell us where she is and we’ll ask her ourselves.” 

Brady gave him an unimpressed look, “I only take orders from-” 

“Well you’re taking them from us now,” Dean interrupted, “so start talking or we’re going to start taking pieces off.” 

Brady glared at Dean for a long beat before leveling him with that unsettling smile. “You know, you were the reason we had to set Sammy up with cute little Jess.” 

Dean clenched his jaw, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We had to have something a little more in his face than the possibility you might get hurt on a hunt to get him back out there.” Brady rolled his head in an unnatural manner to look back at Sam, “Worked didn’t it? Little tasty piece of ass went up in flames and look at you now. You’re practically glowing.” 

Dean moved around the desk, grabbing Brady by his suit jacket and holding him still as he landed three quick punches to Brady’s jaw, the last one sending him sprawling to the floor. 

“Dean.” Sam said with a mock exasperated sigh.

Dean sneered and retreated behind the desk in disgust. 

Brady cradled his jaw and watched Dean with a touch of raw fear. “Rumors are true.” He muttered only to receive twin cold expressions from the brothers. 

Sam gave no indication he’d felt Brady try and teleport out of the room. 

Panic had Brady’s eyes widening as he slammed repeatedly into the wall of Sam’s power that kept him in the room, that kept him inside his meat suit. He got to his knees and held his hands up, “We can keep this civil, can’t we?” 

“And give me a reason to not run you through? Where’s the fun in that?” Dean asked. 

“Tell us what we need to know and we’ll play it by ear.” Sam answered. 

“Meg has been here, sure. But we don’t talk business. They’re social visits.” 

“You expect us to believe that?” Sam asked. 

Brady nodded, “Every piece of the puzzle we laid out went to shit after you started taking blood from more than one source. I don’t know what she’s up to these days.” 

“Hear that?” Dean asked tilting his head towards Sam. 

Sam dipped his head, “Sounds like he doesn’t know anything useful.” 

“I- I don’t know what she’s up to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know where she is.” Sam gave a hum of interest that kept Brady talking. “She’s in Andover, Massachusetts. She spends a lot of her time there.” 

“That’s where Meg got her first meat suit.” Sam reminded Dean. 

“She’s sticking with what she knows.” Dean nudged Sam’s shoulder with the back of his hand, “You wanna do the honors?” 

Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Brady had been a good friend of his long before that holiday break. Sam searched the demon in front of him for any trace that the host was still alive in there. He let out a relieved breath when he found it was just the demon. 

Sam opened his yellow eyes, “I’d rather he not go painless.” 

Dean’s eyes flashed black and he grinned, drawing the first blade from where it was tucked in the small of his back. “I’m sure we can work something out.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy King!Sam  
> Human!Dean

  


**THEN**

As the months passed by, Sam’s "Boy King" title was hardly an issue.

It didn’t keep him from hunting with Dean, and it didn’t demand a lot of his time.

They still hunted evil sons of bitches -just got thrown around a lot less now when they were up against demons. 

They still wore ridiculous getups that helped them investigate a case. 

They still hustled pool for gas and motel money. 

Except, every now and again Sam would leave for the night and come back just after dawn. 

The first few times a well-dressed demon, introduced himself as Crowley, would appear wherever they were –bar, backseat of the Impala at 80mph, digging up a grave, and one memorable time; a motel shower- then with a single syllable, Sam would leave. 

After the first few times Crowley stopped trying to make small talk. Seemingly content to sit at the bar going shot for shot with Dean, or thumbing through a worn paperback in the motel while Dean watched whatever re-run the local cable had to offer. 

Each time Sam left it added to Dean’s frustration that Sam was off doing things Dean couldn’t possibly hope to assist him with. 

Like fighting the demon rebellion Meg was leading. 

Dean had already ordered a double whiskey when Crowley saddled up on the barstool beside him. 

Crowley had been popping up for about a year or so now, and they had exchanged but a handful of words between them so far.

“Seat taken?” Crowley asked in his deep, and accented voice. 

Dean ignored him. 

“Oh come on pet, what a little conversation between the King’s Advisor and the King’s Brother-cum-Mistress?” 

“It’s a demon killing blade between your first and second vertebrate.” Dean said nodding to the bartender for another. 

“Someone’s in a sour mood.” Crowley pouted. 

“And it just keeps getting better now that you’re here.” 

“Because Sam is gallivanting off doing God-“ Crowley briefly blanched at the turn of phrase, “-knows what.” 

Dean accepted the second shot the bartender set in front of him, “Something like that.” 

Crowley ordered his own drink. 

They were quiet as Dean threw back the shot, clicking the empty shot glass back to the bar top. 

“He’s determining deals.” Crowley said, uncharacteristically growing board of the silence. 

“What?” Dean asked with a frown, turning towards the demon. 

“He’s. Determining. Deals.” Crowley enunciated as if Dean hadn’t understood him the first time. 

“Determining Deals?” 

“It means those desperate humans who bargained away their soul for things Sam thinks are worthy, are getting off with a warning.” 

“A warning?” 

“Is there a bloody echo in here or are you that dim?” Crowley snapped, “Your brother, our King, is off letting people out of their crossroad deals if he thinks the bargain was worth the cost of a soul. The more selfless the deal, the better chance they have of getting let off the hook.” 

“Why would he-“ Dean trailed off. He knew exactly why.

Crowley continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Evidently, the story between you two affected him enough to make some changes. Changes Hell hasn’t see since,” Crowley gave the counter in front of him a contemplative look, “ever.” 

Crowley’s high-end Scotch was set down in front of him. “Last week, Sam let a man out of his deal who bargained for his dying daughters’ lives. He hasn’t walked since that car crash, but the girls are alive and well.”

“Sam can do that?” Dean asked, awed.

Crowley shrugged, “Demons don’t need to ask for permission.”

“Sam isn't a demon.” Dean defended immediately. 

Crowley gave a humorless laugh, “The drunk driver that walked away from that car crash without a scratch ten years ago would beg to differ.”

“And Sam-“ Dean couldn’t finish the _“went after him”_. 

Crowley raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “The miserable lush was arrested only last week for driving under the influence. I highly doubt anyone is going to miss him. As the Boy King, Sam has determined his own means to make sure the soul count is maintained.”

Dean took his second shot and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

It was startling, hearing Sam throw around his powers like that. Honestly, it scared him. But at the same time, it made him proud because Sam was actually taking his powers and using them for good. 

Or as good as the situations would allow. He still killed a guy. But it sounded like the guy had zero remorse for what he’d done, even all those years ago. 

Another shot was set in front of Dean, breaking him from his thoughts. 

Dean glanced at Crowley who gave him a grin and a wink. 

Sam had left Crowley to hang around so Dean couldn’t get into trouble. Dean didn’t need a babysitter, but he couldn’t argue the protection; there was a Sam-Hating-Rebellion out there. 

But Crowley was also a wealth of knowledge that Sam wouldn’t be as forthcoming with. 

Knowledge that was ripe for the taking if Crowley was feeling talkative. 

Dean grinned back and glanced at the drink in front of Crowley, “What are you drinking?”

# 

Even though he was a seasoned drinker, Dean couldn’t go shot-for-shot with a demon. Which was how Dean ended up sitting in a booth across from Crowley sharing a card he’d been playing close to the chest since Sam pulled him from Hell. 

“What if there is something Sam can’t defeat?” Dean implored, “Like a god?” 

“Well, depending how many worshipers the god in question has I’d say it’s entirely possible. He doesn’t stand a chance if he faces off against a god of Kali’s caliber. But something like Leshii? Entirely plausible.” 

“Can kill anything if you have the right weapon.” Dean dismissed. “But what if there isn’t time to get the right weapon? Sam is strong, but he's not invincible." Crowley dipped his head to concede with the statement. Dean gave a wistful sigh, “I miss the Colt.”

A small smile lit up Crowley's eyes, “Ah yes. The Colt. One of a few weapons powerful enough to kill anything in the universe.”

“What’r the other ones?” Dean slurred.

“The Sword of Lucifer is one, but I doubt another of those will be on Earth again for another few millennium.” Crowley paused in thought and to take a drink of his whiskey. “Word on the street is the First Blade hasn’t come up against anything it can’t kill either.” 

Dean snorted a laugh into his beer. “That’s a stupid name.”

Crowley frowned at him, not for the first time doubting the oldest Winchester’s intelligence. “It was the weapon used in the first murder of mankind.” 

Dean scoffed, “It’s like calling a wolf "the first dog" that's not a name. That's what it _is_." 

“It was the weapon used by Cain to strike his brother down.” Crowley argued. “It’s what created the first human-turned-demon.” 

Dean hummed, unimpressed. “Still a stupid name for a weapon.”

Crowley’s story of Cain using the first blade to bring unspeakable horrors upon mankind for hundreds of years didn’t change Dean’s mind for how stupid the name was, but it gave him an appreciation of the weapon’s powers. 

Last call cut off Crowley’s story of the first blade being used to kill the last of the Knights of Hell in the late 1800’s.

Dean closed the tab and stumbling back to the motel, Crowley a silent shadow at his side. 

This was the drunkest Dean could remember being in recent memory, and he figured that meant he was entitled to collapse into the motel bed fully clothed. 

The soft sound of Crowley turning a page in his book told Dean he’d settled in for the night. 

“How do I get my hands on it?” Dean asked throwing his forearm over his eyes. He wasn’t looking forward to the hangover tomorrow.

“Get your hands on what?" Came Crowley's bored tone, "The first blade?”

Dean nodded even though he was sure Crowley couldn’t tell. “Figure it’s the same as the Colt. If we have it, it can’t be used against Sam.”

“You realize that’s the same reasoning used to defend the astronomical number of nuclear warheads nations are amassing?” 

Dean didn’t want to try to bring up current affairs with Crowley when he was this drunk, so he stayed silent. 

As the familiar sound of a page being turned lulled Dean closer to sleep, a question occurred to him. 

“Sam would be able to control a Knight of Hell, right?”

"If there were any still around, of course. They were demons. Powerful and bloodthirsty, but demons. The Boy King has power over all of them.”

# 

Dean was sitting on the hood of Baby, leaning back against the windshield. A beer in his hand and Sam was sitting next to him as they looked up into the vast stretch of stars across the Montana sky. 

A chill raced down Dean’s spine as something _evil_ blacked out the sky. 

Sam stood, his eyes a glowing yellow as he held a hand up towards something Dean couldn’t make out. The figureless shape advanced on Sam as if his powers meant nothing. 

Dean innately knew this was a Knight of Hell. 

He tried to call out a warning, but neither of them reacted to Dean screaming for Sam to run, to get as far away from that thing as possible. 

The Knight lifted a finger and Sam let out a scream that had helpless tears welling in Dean’s eyes. 

Between one moment and the next Dean had an arm full of battered and broken Sam. An unrealistic amount of blood pooled around them, bathing Sam in red and rising to seep into the legs of Dean’s pants from where he was kneeling on the ground. 

Dean begged Sam to come back, to open his eyes, but the unresponsive body in his arms remained just that. 

The Knight cast a cold shadow across them as Dean knelt on the hard ground and held Sam.

“Not so tough now are you?” The Knight said toeing at Sam’s still chest. 

Dean choked on another sob and looked up at the shadow that shrouded the Knight’s face. 

The blonde host they’d exorcised Meg from stared back at him. She gave a sharp tsk of disapproval, “All to protect you.” 

# 

Dean woke with a gasp and sat up, the room tilting dangerously as the hangover made itself known. 

Crowley was in a chair, his feet kicked up on the second chair in the room while he continued to read through the worn paperback. 

Dean swallowed and flopped back to the bed, cleared his throat a couple of times before he was able to speak. "I want the first blade." 

"And I wanted a pony as a child." Came Crowley’s unimpressed tone as he turned a page. 

Dean silently watched Crowley read through almost half a page before the demon frowned and turned to look at him. “You’re serious.” 

"I'm going to help Sam kill Meg with it." Dean told him.

Crowley watched him for a long moment before giving an exasperated little sigh, "Very well then." 

Reassured he would have help, Dean lie back down. Hoping more rest would make him more willing to fight the hangover. And hoping it would help him forget the image of Sam broken and bleeding in his arms.

# 

The next time Dean woke, Sam was curled around him on the bed, snoring softly against Dean’s shoulder. 

The fact Sam was sleeping at all meant he had overexerted himself and his body was demanding the down time. 

Judging from the old pennies smell, even the amount of demon blood he was drinking couldn't keep him at the peak he wanted to maintain. Sam running himself ragged was another brick in the wall to fortify Dean’s resolve to be able to help him.

# 

Turns out Dean didn't have to dig very far to find a reference to the first blade. Dad had apparently run into some info when he teamed up with another hunter a lifetime ago. 

That phone call had been short, sweet, and to the point. 

Tara had demanded proof he was John’s boy, and Dean had given it to her. Citing the name of the demon they’d exorcised all those years ago and the weekend they’d shacked up. 

Being able to use the information found in Dad's coded shorthand lessened the fact it had Dean blanch thinking about 'Dad sex', but it was only marginally. 

Tara seemed pacified, but still wanted nothing to do with Dean. She'd warned him if he knew what was good for him, he’d want nothing to do with this weapon either. Her own pursuit had ended in a hunter career-ending leg brace; knee busted to hell. 

Dean remained steadfast, and she admitted she knew of a possible way to find it but never tried it, never having all the ingredients. 

She also told him if he really was John’s boy then he would know the drop box she was sending it to. 

Dean thanked her, and she responded by telling him to lose her number. Before Dean could remember to ask what state she'd sent it to, she hung up. 

# 

Dean sought out cases near where he could remember dad’s drop boxes being. Offering to make all the dinner runs and pit-stopping to check each drop box. 

He caught wind of a possible chupacabra hunt in Arizona. One of three drop boxes left on their Dad's list. Dean didn't even need to pitch the case to Sam before his brother was agreeing. 

The last chupacabra case they heard of was when they were kids. Back then Sam had been too young to even shoot from the passenger window, and Dean’ arm had been in a thick cast from a ghost throwing him through a window. 

They were in Arizona for three days before Dean could sneak off and check the drop box. The box contained mostly spam and a few outdated requests for John to help on a hunt. Pressed between a cable company ad and a local coupon book was Tara's envelope. 

Iceing on the cake was they got to kill a pack of chupacabras. 

_Finally_

# 

Gathering the ingredients together took two weeks because Crowley kept making it out to be some kind of game. 

“Essence of Kraken? Griffin feathers were no problem but where the hell am I going to get my hands on _kraken_?” Dean growled pawing at the various ingredients in the trunk. 

Crowley looked over Dean's shoulder at the list, “How much do you need?” 

Dean couldn’t hold in his laugh, “You just happen to have parts of _The Kraken_ lying around?” 

Crowley gave an indifferent shrug, “I have parts of _a_ kraken lying around.” 

Performing the tracking spell was almost unsatisfactorily simple. One spontaneous map combustion later they had a location. 

Missouri.

# 

“I’m uncomfortable with this.” Crowley confessed as they got out of the Impala. 

“Heard you the first 20 times.” Dean said with an eye roll, “We’re here, so suck it up.” 

“Why would the most powerful weapon known to demon kind be in _Missouri_? Even before this square became a state, the evilest act was smallpox on a blanket in a tasteless grab for land.” 

Dean ignored Crowley’s rambling in favor of looking the house over. Nothing about it screamed father of murder. It was a modest two-story, with a wraparound porch. There were millions of these all across America. 

"Nothing you’ve come across tells you what this thing is supposed to look like?” 

“What it _looks like_ is hardly important compared to _what it is_.” 

It was on the tip of Dean’s tongue to respond with ‘that’s what she said’ but he didn’t feel like trying to lighten the mood. Not for the first time, it made him wish Sam knew what he was up to so he could have accompanied him on this little pickup. 

Instead he was paling around with Crowley, the chattiest demon who for the most part didn’t say anything. 

A white dressed beekeeper rounded the side of the house to the beehives set up next to a small shed. 

“Oh. Should have seen this coming.” Crowley said, mostly to himself, as he came to stand next to Dean. 

“Because neither of us are psychic, what is that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, growing frustrated at the way Crowley always danced around information. 

“That’s Cain.” Crowley said with slight awe in his voice. 

Dean’s head whipped around to look at the demon in disbelief, "He’s still alive?” 

“Course he’s still alive,” Crowley snapped defensively, “the Father of Murder wouldn’t just saunter off to the afterlife.” 

They stood there and watched Cain tend to the bees. 15 minutes passed, and Dean was leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed and Crowley had his hands casually in his dress slack pockets, but Dean could see the excitement tight along his shoulders. This was probably as close as a demon could get to meeting their idol. 

Cain watched them from across the field before starting back towards the house. 

“Any last minute advice?” Dean asked as they approached the front door. 

“Don’t do anything to anger him.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Anything useful?” 

“That’s incredibly useful." Crowley defended, "You anger that demon, and you don’t leave here alive, then he goes after Sam. You’d be throwing away everything that you’ve been working for.” 

Dean clenched his teeth, it pissed him off Crowley knew that idle threats against Sam worked incredibly well for keeping him focused. 

Dean knocked on the door. 

With the screened hat tucked under his arm, and dressed in his beekeeper suit Cain opened the door, “There is nothing for you here.” He greeted them. 

Dean flashed him a charming smile, “Evening, just have a few-“ 

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Dean Winchester.” 

Dean’s smile faltered, “You know who I am?” 

“I do. I also know about your brother.” Dean felt his humor drain away between one heartbeat and the next, “And what you’ve done for each other. So I’ll say it again, there is nothing for you here.” 

Cain started to close the door, and Dean shoved his foot against the door jam, preventing it from closing. 

“ _Dean_!” Crowley hissed, scandalized. 

Dean ignored the ex-king of the crossroads, “I need the First Blade.” 

Cain’s unimpressed expression didn’t change. “Your determination is commendable, but it wouldn’t be worth it.” 

“That’s for me to decide.” Dean challenged. 

Behind him, Dean could hear Crowley practically wringing his hands as they watched Cain give Dean a soul-searching look. 

“Five minutes.” Cain told him as he opened the door and gestured inside. 

# 

Cain left them in the living room while he put away his beekeeping gear. 

His old world manners had him bringing a pitcher of water, some glasses, and a cup of tea for each of them. 

“I’ve gone to great lengths to remain retired. I don’t appreciate a former heir to the Crossroads and the Boy King’s brother showing up on my doorstep unannounced.” Cain stirred in a few spoonful’s of sugar into his tea. “Tell me why you want the first blade.” He raised the delicate china to his lips and raised an eyebrow, “Convince me.” 

Crowley took his own cup of tea with a giddy bow, Dean rested his forearms on his knees and leaned in. “We’re fighting a rebellion and could use all the firepower we can get.” 

Cain scoffed, “What you’re dealing with is hardly a rebellion.” 

“It’s a threat to my brother. That’s rebellion enough for me.” 

Cain took a sip of his tea and considered it. “What you’re asking for doesn’t come without repercussions.” 

Dean set his jaw and leveled Cain with an unblinking stare, “If this weapon of yours lives up to the stories I’ll accept the consequences, whatever they are.” 

“You would destroy yourself to keep your brother safe?” 

“Of course.” Dean replied immediately. 

“Even though he’s fallen so far?” 

Dean clenched his teeth and looked Cain in the eye, “He’s my brother. And no matter how many devils he talks to, nothing will change that.” 

Cain twisted the ring on his finger in absent thought. “If only I had had your conviction.” He said, almost to himself, and watched Dean for a long moment before taking another sip of his tea. “There is no redemption for your brother. And if you pick up the First Blade there will be none for you either.” 

Dean nodded in understanding. 

Sam and him had been in this together for so long Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. “I’m not looking for a way to save us. I’m looking to protect my brother.” It wasn’t disrespect that prevented Dean from staying his tongue, but a part of Dean doubted his reasoning would appeal to any part of Cain’s nature, but he had to try. “I can’t let him fight this alone. He’s out there-“ 

“Enough.” Cain said holding up two fingers. “Do I have your word you will protect your brother’s life?” 

Dean was taken aback. Nothing else in the world mattered. He told Cain as such. 

Cain eased back into his seat with something akin to approval in his gaze. “I can’t give you the First Blade-” 

“Can’t or wouldn’t?” Dean demanded. 

Cain continued as if Dean hadn’t spoken, “-because it is no longer in my possession. It hasn’t been for a long time.” He turned his head to watch the bees move about the comb he kept in his living room. “Choosing to kill my brother set the two of us along very different paths. Soulmates are meant to be reunited in heaven but that-“ 

Cain trailed off and blinked, coming back to himself, he turned to regard Dean’s determined face once more. 

“I can give you this,” Cain pulled up his sleeve to reveal an angry red scar -Crowley's gasp was almost startling with the tension between the two eldest brothers-, “without this the blade is useless.” 

Dean nodded. If Cain needed to whip out a hot iron to brand him, he would do it. 

For Sammy. 

Cain stood, and Dean followed, “I was able to save my brother but damned myself in the process.” Cain ran a thumb over the curve of the brand, “I only pray that you taking this mark will allow you to stay with yours.” 

Dean moved to stand closer to Cain, “Saved your brother from what?” 

“Telling you will change nothing.” Cain said remorsefully.

Cain turned to Crowley and in a language, that to Dean sounded a lot like Hebrew, said something that had Crowley eagerly nodding his head. Before disappearing a moment later.

“What’d you tell him?” Dean said, growing anxious.

“I’ve sent him to fetch the weapon.” Cain’s intense eyes bore into him as he held out an expectant hand, “By giving you the source of the blade’s power can you hope to write a history I have only dreamed of.” 

Dean took Cain’s hand. 

Accepting the Mark onto his arm was so much worse than being touched with a hot iron. 

The tendrils that pulsed through his veins was like touching a live wire. The pain started from the inside Dean’s wrist and snaked around the back of his forearm as the blood-red lines moved to gather and take shape in the crook of his arm. Dean cried out and instinctively tried to move away only for Cain to grab his biceps and hold him still. 

Dean blindly grabbed for Cain’s other arm to keep his feet under him as a pulse, hot as only blue fire can be, followed the red veins as if to sear his skin from the bone. 

Cain released his arm, and Dean followed suit, cradling the angry looking wound to his chest. 

Crowley returned as the heat from the mark started to dip back towards body temperature. In his hands was an aged bone partially wrapped in worn leather. 

From the look in Crowley’s eye it was almost as if he expected Cain to pat him on the head for a job well done. 

Cain looked away from the bone and into Dean’s eyes. “Stand by your brother as I never could.” He commanded. 

Dean dipped head and thought only of being able to protect Sam as he took the first blade by the leather wrapped hilt. 

 

Clawing desire flooded Dean’s mind along with thousands of images. 

Some of Cain together with a man that Dean knew to be Able. 

The memories that weren’t his own began to overlay with Dean's own memories of Sam. 

The familiar curl of a secret smile on Sam’s lips one moment only to appear on Abel’s the next, but the flare of affection didn’t dim in the transition. 

Sand beneath their heads, replaced by grass the next moment as they spent hours watching the stars. 

Watching water droplets fall to his collarbone as they swam naked in the river by moonlight. 

The curve of his bare shoulder as they lied tucked against each other. 

Every instance that Sam made Dean’s heart swell with love and affection was reflected in the brothers that had come before them. As pleasant as these memories were, the next was stronger; filled with regret and guilt. 

A great darkness blanketed Abel’s bright aura to the point where he disappeared as the wrongbadevil swept over him. 

As the emptiness started to fill into Abel, Dean watched in horror as his own hands snuffed out the brilliant light that was his younger brother. 

As Dean felt Cain place a hand on his shoulder, he started surfacing from the dreamscape. Dean’s last thought before he was pulled from away was “that will never be us”.

# 

Sam was silently clicking away at his laptop when Dean returned to the motel. “Have fun?” He asked not looking up. 

“Had a blast.” Dean said shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it onto the bed. Dean sat down on the too soft mattress and restrained himself from rubbing the mark on his arm. 

Sam shut the lid of his laptop and walked across the room and settled in Dean’s lap, his knees on either side of Dean’s hips. 

Dean blinked up at him. 

“Hey.” Sam said, his face soft and happy. 

“Hi.” Dean said setting his hands on Sam’s thigh. 

Sam ducked his head, a small smirk on his lips, “You wanna fool around?” 

“Are we going steady now or something?” Dean asked, rubbing small circles into Sam’s thigh with his thumbs. 

Sam settled his warm hands on Dean’s shoulders and trailing them down Dean’s biceps. 

Sam’s hands moved further down his arm, and Dean panicked that Sam would discover the mark before he had a chance to understand what it really meant. 

With the element of surprise, Dean flipped Sam onto his back. 

Sam immediately surged up and grabbed the short hair at the back of Dean’s head and pulled him into a kiss. 

Something that sang of ‘ _need_ ’ settled deep in Dean’s chest.

Batting Sam’s hands away from his own unbuttoned flannel Dean pushed Sam’s shirt up to his armpits. He sucked a quick hickey into the column of Sam’s neck before moving down to Sam’s collarbone and sealing his mouth over the skin there. 

Sam moaned his name, as his fingers pull harder at Dean’s hair trying to move him where he wanted him, but Dean fought Sam's grip to keep moving down. 

Taking Sam’s nipple between his teeth, Dean worried the nub until Sam gives a breathy whine and bucks his hips. Giving it a soothing lick Dean moved to the next one to give it the same rough treatment. 

Dean pulled Sam’s hands from his hair and sat up to tug at Sam’s belt and pop the button on his jeans, not waiting for Sam to lift his hips before he jerked the jeans free from Sam’s body.

Sam’s erection tented his boxers obscenely and instead of stripping them from Sam’s body as he had the jeans, Dean leaned down and mouthed at the hard flesh through the thin cotton, planted wet open mouth kisses along Sam’s length. Pausing occasionally to rest his cheek against the inside of Sam’s thigh and inhale his scent. He nuzzled Sam’s balls before going back to licking the growing damp patch of pre-come. Sam managed to push Dean’s unbuttoned flannel over a shoulder before Dean was ducking under his hands and pulling Sam’s shirt over his head, popping seam stitches as he hastily threw it away. 

With a firm hand, Dean shoved Sam back onto the bed and moved to cover his body and reclaim his lips before the mattress finished its initial squeak of protest. 

“Gonna fuck you hard Sammy.” Dean promised sealing it with a harsh press of lips. “Want to hear you beg me to stop.” Dean purred working a hand inside Sam’s boxers and wrapping around his hard cock. 

Sam moaned and arched into Dean’s hand, his hands once again pulling at the back of Dean’s neck to get him closer. 

Dean shoved Sam’s boxers out of the way and ground his jean covered dick against Sam’s sensitive head. Sam pulled away from the kiss with a sharp exhale.

Dean sat up and quickly freed himself from the confines of his jeans. He kept the outer shirt on until he climbed back on the bed and flipped Sam onto his stomach, grabbing Sam's hips and forcing him to his knees. 

He pet his hands over the globes of Sam’s ass, spreading his ass cheeks to spit on Sam’s hole before pressing a dry finger into Sam’s tight ass. 

Sam hissed at the rough treatment, and Dean ran a mock apologetic hand down Sam’s flank before wrapping Sam’s dick in his too tight, too dry hold, and pulling. 

Clawing at the sheets, Sam rocked his hips back into Dean’s finger. There was too little lube for as fast as Dean wanted to work him, but Sam couldn’t make himself tell Dean to stop. He was too turned on at Dean’s uncharacteristic aggressiveness to do anything more than tilt his hips to allow Dean better access to jerk him off. 

Dean pumped the spit slick fingers inside Sam’s ass with a few more merciless twists of his wrist, before removing them to lay the girth of his dick across Sam’s un-prepped hole and grinding the length of his shaft along the rim. 

“I want you to come for me, Sammy.” Dean commanded in a deep growl as he palmed Sam’s cock head aggressively between his fingers, knowing that paying attention to the sensitive head never failed to make Sam squirm and pant like a dog in heat. “I want you to come for me Sammy because I’m going to fuck this tight little ass of yours using only your come for lube.” 

The mattress Sam’s face was pressed against failed to muffle his wanton moan. 

Dean rubbed the length of his dick back and forth across the crack of Sam’s ass, keeping a steady rhythm as he jacked the head of Sam’s cock. 

“Dean, I-” Sam moaned and pushed himself on all fours with shaky arms, “please, I can’t-” He cut himself off with another moan. 

Dean clamped a firm hand on the back of Sam’s neck and forced his face back into the mattress. 

“Doing so good for me Sammy.” Dean cooed, “Gonna feel so good sticking my dick in your tight ass. Gonna open you up nice and slow with your own jizz then fuck my own load deep inside you.” Dean promised in a growl. 

Sam shot a hand out to brace himself against the headboard and push back against the heat of Dean’s dick teasing at his hole. 

The quick movement made Dean think he was trying to get away from the onslaught, so he draped himself over Sam’s back and picked up his pace, stripping Sam’s dick with the precome that dribbled from the tip. 

The focused attention on his cock head forced a strangled moan from Sam, the bed sheets coming untucked in his hands as he scrambled for something solid to hang onto as his orgasm rushed through him with such intensity it made his ears ring. 

Dean continued to give long, firm pulls to Sam’s dick, alternating hands as he used the come pooling in his palm to slick his own dick as well as work as much come into Sam’s ass as he could with three fingers. 

He braced a come-covered hand against the small of Sam’s back and lined his dick up, giving one firm thrust until his hips met the globes of Sam’s ass. The warm welcome heat of Sam’s ass was still fluttering from the tremors of his orgasm. 

Dean grabbed Sam’s hips and brought him back the same time he thrust forward, Sam’s deep groan of approval was music to Dean’s ears. He wasted no time drawing almost all the way out of Sam’s ass before slamming back home. 

“So tight Sammy.” Dean praised exaggerating another thrust. “Do you like my dick opening you up with your own come?” 

Sam keened and arched his hips up like an offering. 

“Feels so fucking perfect Sammy. Like you were made for me.” Dean panted snapping his hips forward.

Dean took Sam’s throaty moan of agreement as an invitation to chase his own orgasm. Bracing a hand on the back of Sam’s neck to keep him pressed against the mattress, and another on his hip to keep him still, Dean set about making Sam’s tight hole his. 

The headboard slammed against the wall in perfect sync with Dean’s every thrust. The heavy wood a loud thump to drown out the slap of Dean’s hips meeting Sam’s ass. 

Dean watched as his dick pumped in and out of Sam’s ass, Dean’s short pubes wet from the come he’d used to open Sam up. 

The thought of his own hot load filling Sam’s ass had him gripping Sam’s ass cheeks in each hand and spreading him wide for an unobstructed view of Sam’s pink hold already glistening with come. 

Sam’s moan as his cheeks were spread apart was lost in the bang of the headboard clattering against the wall. The feeling of one of Dean’s fingers pressing against the rim of his ass, where Dean’s dick already felt so thick inside him, had Sam squirming. 

He couldn’t decide if he wanted the additional finger or not, but he couldn't find his voice to tell Dean as much. 

“Beautiful Sammy.” Dean said with a groan, another finger petting along the already stretched hole. “Fucking perfect.” 

Dean ran his fingers through the come gathering around Sam’s hole. The thought of Sam’s ass so full of come it leaked out around his dick had him easing the two fingers in alongside his dick on the next thrust. 

Sam keened and pulled the sheet further off the bed at the sudden stretch of his ass. He blindly groped for Dean behind him to get him to thrust harder, twisting to grab at Dean’s arm. 

Sam wrapped a hand around Dean’s elbow before the arm was suddenly gone and he was hauled to his knees by Dean’s forearm around his throat. 

The arm around his neck arched him like a bow, held to Dean’s chest so tightly by his forearm it cut off the ability to breath. But the new angle had pushed Dean’s fingers in further, and his thrusts were a brutal display of his ability to hit Sam’s prostate with every snap of his hips. 

Sam clawed weakly at Dean’s arm around his throat, the lack of air making the pleasure that much more sharp. He could feel every inch of Dean’s powerful thrusts. 

Sam could feel his own heartbeat tattoo against his throat. Dean’s heartbeat a much quicker pace on Sam’s shoulder. 

Just as he started to squirm, fighting for air he almost desperately needing, Dean set his teeth in a firm bite to the back of Sam’s shoulder and pulsed his release deep inside Sam’s ass. 

The hot flood inside Sam’s ass, against his already abused prostate, has Sam opening his mouth in a silent cry as he came untouched. 

The pressure around his throat vanished, and he gulped in deep breaths, Dean’s hand hot against his collarbone where he held him upright as they both panted and shuttered against each other. 

“Fuck, Dean.” Sam muttered a few moments later when Dean released him to drop back to all fours on the mattress. 

Dean patted Sam’s hip and eased his dick out of Sam’s used hole, going to fetch a washcloth from the bathroom. 

 

After Dean had cleaned them up and remade the part of the bed Sam clawed loose, he realized the insatiable need he’d felt while holding the first blade had faded considerably. 

They were lying together in the middle of the bed, listening to the sound of the cars on the highway zipping by. 

Sam had an arm over Dean’s chest and a leg thrown over his thigh. 

Through the thin motel wall they could hear the couple next door talking. The “I’m more impressed than mad” had Dean burying a huff of laughter into Sam’s hair. 

He felt Sam smile against his chest, “Not that I'd ever complain, but what the hell was that?” 

In the cover of darkness Dean rubbed at the mark and lied. “Dunno.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy King!Sam  
> MoC(-ish)!Dean

**THEN**

Trying to keep the mark covered until he figured out a way to tell Sam what he’d done made Dean wonder if this was what rebellious teenagers felt like trying to hide a tattoo from their parents.

His showers were meticulous and quick so Sam wouldn’t walk in and pounce on him in the shower. They didn’t indulge in shower sex often, the motels they stayed in often not even big enough to fit Sam, let alone both of them. 

He found himself putting on both his shirts before even bothering with boxers and pants when he dressed.

Exactly three days after his visit to Cain -and a Rakshasa kill that made Dean far more satisfied than it had any right to- Dean caved and confessed he had something to tell Sam. 

“Remember that cowboy museum I checked out?” 

Sam blinked up from the ancient book in his lap, “Yeah.” 

“Well, I kind of got something else on that trip too.” Dean said going for casual.

A smirk tugged at Sam’s lips, “Is this you finally admitting you want to roleplay?” 

Dean frowned at him in confusion. “Roleplay?” 

“You know, play cowboys or whatever.” Sam gestured at Dean, “Lone Ranger comes to town and starts something with the local sheriff.” He finished with a gesture to himself, letting his legs fall open as he leaned back in a casual sprawl. 

Dean found himself unable to close his mouth at the images flashing in his mind’s eye. 

Sam’s hazel eyes blinking up at him from under the brim of a cowboy hat as he wrapped his lips around Dean’s dick. 

Sam riding him while wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and a pair of cowboy boots. 

“You’d-” Dean cleared his suddenly too dry throat, “You’d do that?” 

“Cowboy hat and everything.” Sam smirked. 

Dean felt his dick stir at the promise. 

He mentally shook himself, there would be time for that later. “It’s actually about something else.” 

“Oh?” 

“I made a little visit to someone who gave me something.” He said rubbing at his elbow. 

“Getting you to tell me anything is like pulling teeth, Dean.” Sam mused. 

Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “I know, I know.” 

“It’s not an STD is it?” Sam teased. 

Dean balked, “No! I didn’t fucking sleep with anyone.” 

“Then whatever it is you can tell me.” Sam assured him, “We’ll deal with it.” 

Sam had learned the key to getting anything out of Dean was to give him plenty of reassurance. 

“I got this.” Dean explained pushing up the sleeve of his flannel. 

Sam had also learned that getting anything out of Dean in the future required that he not lose his temper when Dean finally told him. 

“Did you get into a fight with a hot stove?!” Sam demanded, abandoning his reading, and covering the space between them in two strides. 

He took Dean’s wrist in his hand to examine the angry red mark closer. “Jesus, Dean. That looks like it’s infected.” He fussed running a thumb over the raised skin. 

Sam’s light touch sent pleasant sparks all through Dean's body and making blood rush to his dick so fast it made him light headed. “It’s the Mark of Cain.” 

Sam blinked up at him in confusion. “Cain?” At Dean’s head nod, Sam pressed, “As in Cain who slew Able because he was jealous of his brother’s favor with God. _That_ Cain?” 

Dean bit at his lip, “I don’t think he did it out of jealousy.” He hedged. 

“How did you even find _Cain_?” Sam said going back to inspecting Dean’s arm. 

“Long story short, it’s a demon legend that Crowley and I looked into.” 

Sam clenched his teeth and fought down the wave of anger.

He should have known. Something changed a few months ago, and those two had got on like a house fire ever since. Crowley might be loyal to Sam, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a demon and prone to find trouble whenever he could. 

“And what was the story that convinced you to get branded?” Sam paused as realization dawned on him; story time alone wouldn’t have spurred Dean to action. There had to be something this would help Dean accomplish. “What were you planning on doing?” 

Dean took back his arm and bit at his lower lip in uncomfortable hesitation. 

“Dean.” Sam demanded, barely preventing the words from coming out a command. He knew he wasn’t going to like this. “What does it do?” 

“It a power source for a weapon that, as far as we know, can kill anything.” 

“You’re just walking around with a time bomb on your arm?” Sam demanded.

“It’s not-” Dean gave a groan of frustration, “-it’s not a time bomb. So far there haven’t been any major side effects.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised in disbelief, “ _Major_ side effects?! What minor-" Sam cut himself off, "The sex when you came back." He accused, "That’s a side effect?” 

“No!" Dean denied, before shaking his head, "Maybe. I don’t think so because I haven’t felt like that since.” Dean watched Sam hoping his brother wouldn’t notice the lie. 

Dean had felt a euphoric high similar to an orgasm after he killed that Rakshasa. The brass bullet to the head had wounded it; then when Dean drove the brass blade through the thing's chest he noticed the half-chub he was sporting. “Disgusted with himself” was an understatement.

“I had this dream,” Dean started and paused. He couldn’t remember the last time he shared one of his dreams with Sam. He didn't like that the first one after so long was this upsetting. 

“And in this dream, there was something stronger than you.” Dean made a hapless gesture, “Strong than your powers. It threw both of us around like ragdolls.” Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat, “It ripped you apart. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.” He finished in a whisper. 

“I needed something to make sure I can help keep you alive. I asked Crowley and,” Dean gave a shrug, “had a lead the next day.” 

Sam took Dean's hand in his own and Dean squeezed back, unconcerned that they were doing something so couple-y as holding hands while he was this emotional. “You wouldn’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. There are a few that have a vested interest in keeping me in power. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam promised. He wiggled their joined hand until Dean looked him in the eye. “I wouldn’t let it happen.” 

Dean nodded, offering Sam a small smile for the reassurance. 

They were just words, but it made Dean feel better than he had in a long while; as if the worry had been plucked from his shoulders. 

They sat holding hands for a long moment, both savoring the quiet calm of each other. 

Dean heaved a deep sigh, hoping to break the palpable tension, “I also have this reoccurring dream about you making out with a clown.” 

He felt Sam stiffen in terror at the thought before giving himself a shake. “That’s not funny Dean.” 

Dean chuckled, and Sam tackled him flat on the bed.

# 

Dean stretched out across the bed of the motel room, a new episode of Dr. Sexy on the TV.

It was a lazy day, rare because he was by himself. Sam was off doing his "Kingly duties" for a few hours, Crowley at his side as a translator, which left Dean to his own devices. 

Even without Sam’s abilities Dean knew there was at least one demon stationed outside the motel room keeping an eye on him. Meg had recently made a power play in the Northeast, reducing a bustling city to ashes, so Sam wasn’t going to leave Dean unprotected. 

Never mind the decades of hunting experience, Dean thought sourly.

Dr. Sexy had one more commercial break to go before the episode ended the suspense of finding out who was the father of Doctor Piccolo’s unborn child. 

They’d been playing it up to be Dr. Sexy’s all season, but Dean didn’t think so. He had seen the foreshadowing in earlier episodes; a kid had been brought in with a hereditary blood disease when neither of the parents them were a carrier. It ended with Dr. Piccolo telling the dad he wasn’t the biological-father and the mom bursting into tears and confessing she’d had an affair days before they started trying to have a child of their own. 

That and Dean had faith that Dr. Sexy was a gentleman, and classy enough to always wear a condom. 

The shity-hipster-beer commercial ended, and the cast of Dr. Sexy posed around the network logo looking all pensive and in character, meaning the show was coming back from commercial break. 

The scene opened with a close up of Dr. Sexy’s concerned expression -Dean really liked his hair in these later seasons- before it abruptly cut to black. 

Dean let out a protested, "Hey!" and grabbed the remote before realizing the TV wasn’t the only thing that had switched off in the room. The bedside lamps had started to flicker before going dark as well. 

Dean let out a curse and dove for his gear, drawing the First blade from his duffel bag just as the door to the motel shot across the room in pieces, missing him by inches. 

“Dean-o! I’m home!” A female voice called into the room. 

From his crouched position near the wall, Dean could see the grains that made up the salt line zipping across the floor from the wind. It was a matter of seconds before the line broke. 

“If you come out now, I promise to be real gentle.” The voice cooed.

Dean clenched his teeth and cursed his luck. There was no way to let Sam know he was in deep shit. His charging phone sat innocently on the too far away nightstand, and he didn’t know what had happened to the demon guard Sam had undoubtedly posted for this very occasion. 

As the line of salt broke, two demons rushed into the motel room. With the blade singing in his hand, Dean sunk the ancient bone deep into the first demon’s stomach. Pausing long enough to make sure the body he shoved the ground would stay down before turning on the other demon. This one was a bit more tactical, but not enough to out maneuver Dean and his weapon. 

There was a loud pop from within the wall as if the structure was settling, followed by a visible crack that raced from the floor to the ceiling. 

Dean had half a second to duck before the doorway was rendered meaningless as the whole wall splintered inward. 

The ringing in Dean’s ears gave way to a muffled maniacal laugh that made the hair on the back of his neck up. A section of wall that had pinned him to the floor was lifted away and hands -far stronger than their small span would suggest- grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him upright. 

There was a loud boom as the wood and plaster were dropped back to the ground. 

“Do you think Sam will be so willing to rule Hell without his sorry excuse for a big brother around?” The demon -Meg, Dean had no doubts- purred. 

Dean coughed the dust from his lungs before rasping, “Go to Hell bitch.” As he jabbed the blade at her chest, she caught his wrist and twisting his arm behind his back, using her inhuman strength to pull him close. 

“Nice knife.” She cooed at him, “Where did you get it?” 

“An old friend.” Dean sassed back. 

“Friend of your brothers?” Meg asked squeezing his wrist slowly, the bones grinding together and forcing him to drop the blade. “Is Sammy sleeping with him too?”

What felt like adrenaline, but thicker, flooded Dean’s mind and he broke Meg’s hold, punching his freed fist into her face. 

Meg reeled back in surprise, a hand reaching for her broken nose before she stopped herself and fixed her black eyes on him. “Someone’s been drinking their milk.” Blood dripped from her nose down her already red stained lips “And here I was going to let the bait live.” She snarled, lunging at him. 

Her shoulder caught him around the middle, and she slammed him on his back. Her hands wrapped around his neck as she dug her knees into his shoulders, pinning him down. 

“What do you think Sam would be most upset to find left behind?” She said holding up a silver pocket knife. She leaned in close, ignoring Dean’s attempts to dislodge her, and trailed the knife down the side of his face, leaving bloody, thin cuts in its wake. 

“Oh, I know.” She purred running the knife down his shirt, uncaring if it cut into the fabric or his skin. Before driving the knife deep into his side, “We’ll write him a nice farewell letter.”

# 

Meg’s rebellion had slithered into Sam’s ranks far deeper than any of them had fathomed. 

Of the two demons they’d left to guard Dean, one was bloody and stuck in a Devil’s Trap. The other was face down where the motel door used to be; the demon-killing knife stuck in his back all the way to the hilt. Meg had taken Sam’s satisfaction of ending the traitor himself.

Everything about this screamed of Meg taunting him. Telling him that she wasn’t scared of him. 

The demon knife left behind to show she didn’t fear it. 

The surviving demon a witness to her destruction. 

A demonstration of her raw power evident in the number she’d done on the motel, the rooms to either side hadn’t escaped her hand, she’d even gone so far as to kill the unwashed motel manager. 

Sam stood in the middle of the motel room where not 12 hours ago he’d goaded Dean into poker. Betting favors and Kamasutra positions instead of money. 

What was left of the room was now flooded with Meg’s tainted aura. 

The faintest touch of Dean’s fear was present under one of the larger chunks of debris. Logically Sam knew Dean wasn’t in the room, but worry and fear had Sam ripping apart the fallen ceiling like tissue paper as he searched for the object that held Dean’s powerful emotion. Instead of his brother, the carpet was stained with an alarming amount of blood. Dean’s blood. Next to the pool of blood were several neat, precise overlaying lines. 

They were familiar in a way the runes scattered around Hell were familiar. 

“Crowley!” Sam shouted the demon appeared at his side between one heartbeat and the next, “Translate.” He demanded. 

Crowley looked at the scrawl of lines and cursed to himself before taking a breath and reading aloud, “Finders keepers.” 

Sam’s furious outburst brought the rest of the building down around them. 

 

Sam continued to struggle to reign in his temper as he started rooting through the trunk of the Impala. He found one of Dean’s old shirts -bloody from some long forgotten hunt- and the chant he would need for the tracking spell. 

_What if it doesn’t work?_ The stray thought had Sam gritting his teeth and gripping the lip of the trunk to stave off the helpless frustration that accompanied it. 

_Meg_ **has Dean**. 

The metal of the Impala bent under his fingers from the force of his grip. 

When the groan of metal reached his ears, the franticness of his mind was shoved down, silenced. He took a calming breath and released his grip on the car. 

Dean was going to be pissed about the damage. Sam looked forward to the lecture.

# 

Unable to leave Earth and travel as the demons could, Sam instructed them to keep any obstacles out of his way by any means necessary. 

As the second set of cop car lights faded in the rearview mirror Sam pushed the Impala back up over 120 mph to pass around another Mustang as if it were standing still. The formless demons following him looked like a black sentient cloud dancing in the red of the Impala’s taillights. 

 

The tracking spell lead Sam to an abandoned nuclear plant in Phipps Bend, Tennessee. He could feel demons crawling over every inch of the rusted structures. 

Dean’s aura like a flickering candle from somewhere within. He was hurt. Hurt and so weak he was slipping in and out of Sam’s sight. 

Sam knew this would be different than sneaking through Hell when he'd first rescued Dean. 

There was a stronger sense of urgency now because Dean had a body, he was still alive. In Hell, Sam had held Dean’s body for a day until Hell’s eternal damnation had healed him and they were able to move. 

Now, here on Earth, if Sam didn’t get to Dean in time there was no guarantee his soul would remain within Sam’s reach. Of course, Sam would wage war on Heaven to bring Dean back, but he had no reference for how long that campaign would keep them apart. 

Instructing the demons loyal to him to keep Dean alive at all costs, Sam sent them into the aging building first. He knew he could never hope to subdue this many demons with his powers for long. Maybe a couple of hours at best, but even then it would strain him. 

The first of Meg’s demons he came upon were quickly dispatched with the demon-killing knife.

As Sam made his way through the corroded facility he would mentally wrangle any demon that came at him. Holding them only long enough to run them through with the knife before focusing on the next one. 

The further Sam worked his way inside, the more he had to anticipate the numerous demons coming at him. He was like a beacon of light shining into the darkness; once the monsters loyal to Meg caught sight of him, they wanted his head. 

After tearing his way through two darkened rooms and a hallway Sam felt the fire that was Dean’s life-force extinguish. 

Unconcerned with anything other than Dean, Sam reached out with his mind and snuffed out every demon within an eight-foot radius. 

The crowd around him wavered, his army taking a step away in terror at the display of raw power. Adrenaline surged, and Sam took a step towards the demon charging him, the knife sweeping across the thing’s throat, covering Sam’s arm in the warm arterial spray. 

The promise of power in the blood was too siren song. Too opportune, too aligned with his mission, to go ignored. Sam ducked his head and licked clean a long strip up his wrist. 

A low, horrified murmur went up around him as the tang of _absolution_ coated the back of his throat. 

He opened his eyes, fixing the yellow orbs on the indecisive demon in front of him. 

_“Kneel.”_ He commanded. 

All around him the demons fell to their knees. 

Sam cast a long look around the room to those that were still standing. He held up a hand, drawing a deep breath and held it as he reached out, steadying himself for the push-breath-and-pull as he extinguished over a dozen demons. 

An Earth-shaking boom rattled deep within the belly of the nuclear plant in answer to Sam's display. 

Sam rolled his head to crack the kink out of his neck before starting for the doors. 

Twice as many demons followed him passively through the maze of the abandoned building towards to looming silo.

 

Sam followed the steady stream of demons coming from within the building. Alternating between snuffing them out with his mind and running them through with the knife. 

With each telepathic kill he took a mouthful of blood from the still dripping knife. 

A part of his mind already justifying the host's death because it was helping to bring him that much closer to Dean. 

Sam would rather see the world burn than allow Dean to slip away when there was something he could do about it. 

The fortified door between him and the last place he’d felt Dean’s presence was twisted into a useless heap of metal as Sam ripped it off its hinges. 

As Sam stepped into the room, he reached out and snuffed the life from each demon watching his entrance. 

The flashes of demons dying beneath the skin of the host told Sam very little of the layout of the room until his eyes adjusted to the inky blackness. 

Dean was in the middle of the room, suspended by his arms from a rope hanging from the ceiling. 

His head was down, chin resting against his chest. His shirt hung from his shoulders in bloody tatters. His feet were bare and bloody, one of his pant legs was missing from the knee down. 

The air was forced from his lungs like a punch as he took in the aftermath of what looked to be a stab wound below Dean's ribcage. Blood had run down his side, soaking what was left of his shirt and down his jeans to the calf of his exposed leg. 

A horrified "No" fell from his lips as he started towards Dean. His fingers were shaking as they searched for a pulse at Dean's neck. 

Another denial left his lips when he couldn't find one. Tears blurred his vision, but he ignored them as he cut Dean down from the ropes and laid him flat to press frantic fingers once again to Dean’s throat. 

“No.” Sam said again in disbelief as he tilted Dean’s bruised chin back and forced two breaths into his lungs before pressed his hands over the top of one another on Dean’s chest and started compressions. 

“Come on, come on.” Sam chanted counting to 30 before ducking down to breath into him again. 

Rational thought tried to overpower his growing sense of hopelessness. He couldn’t move Dean to get him help because he’d already lost too much blood. 

Calling 911 would take far too long, and Sam would be forced to answer for the dead in every room leading them to this one. 

Never mind Sam himself was covered in blood. 

Another seven rounds of CPR and Dean still didn’t have a pulse. Sam felt his tight control slipping away as he grew frantic. 

He’d done this. 

A sob worked its way free of his throat at the thought. 

Because Sam wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough, Dean had died alone. Of all the things in the world Sam knew Dean’s worst fear was to be alone. 

Guilt brought bile to the back of Sam’s throat, he had been only yards away when he felt Dean die. 

Sam's arrogance had killed his brother. 

He had naïvely thought Dean was far enough removed from the fighting he couldn't be touched. He had been so sure that Dean would be safe. Sam gathered Dean lifeless body to his chest with another sob and petted a hand through his short hair. 

Dean’s face was mottled with dark bruises, made far darker because of how pale he was. His long lashes a stark contrast against his colorless cheeks. 

Behind him, Sam felt a demon approaching at a subdued pace. 

One of his own. As he shook from the force of his sobs he wished for any other devil behind him. One that would end the growing hole inside him at losing Dean all over again. Anything to stop the pain of knowing those bring green eyes would never open again. 

“Find him.” Sam softly begged the demon behind him. 

Asking the question was an act of pure denial because Sam knew, deep down, there was nothing he could do because Dean’s soul rightfully belonged in Heaven. A part of him knew he should be grateful for the few short years he was able to spend with his brother after rescuing him from Hell, but he couldn’t find it in him. He held Dean close and rocked them back and forth. 

“I’m sorry I left you alone.” Sam murmured as he cried into Dean’s bloody shoulder. “I’m sorry I drug you into this mess. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here fast enough to be with you in the end. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

The demon’s hand dropped to Sam’s shoulder, “Continue talking to him.” Came Crowley whisper. 

Through the sobbing and guilt, Sam wanting to wring his neck, “Telling him how sorry I am wouldn’t change the fact he’s gone.” He growled before hiccupping another sob. 

“The only thing you’ll have to apologize for is the broken rib from all the mouth to mouth.” Crowley reprimand softly. 

Sam’s yellow eyes glared at him through his tears as he rocked Dean’s body. 

Crowley who quickly held his hand up in surrender, amending, “I meant no disrespect, of course. Hear me out. Cain’s life was omitted after Abel’s death because of his families’ shame, so the story of his grief was never recorded.” 

Crowley paused to make sure Sam was paying attention, “The guilt of killing his brother drove Cain to take his own life. But as the mark on your brother’s arm proves; Cain can’t die.” 

Sam forcefully shoved inside Crowley’s mind, uncaring that it caused the demon pain as he searched for the lie. The twisted half-truth. He pulled back when he found only honesty. 

“How?” Sam choked out, “How’d he do it? What brought Cain back?” 

“Lucifer’s brand.” Crowley said moving a hand to hold his head as he reeled from the invasion, in his other hand he offered Sam the first blade.

Sam didn’t reach for the old weapon. He wasn’t even sure how Crowley had it. “What good is an ancient bone going to do now?” 

“Take it.” Crowley insisted. 

Sam took the blade and laid it over the largest rip in Dean’s shirt running from his collarbone to his hip before pulling Dean back into his arms, the blade sandwiched between them. 

Crowley moved away and left Sam to his grief. 

The old bone painfully dug into Sam's stomach as he held Dean. “You were so worried about something coming after me.” He whispered against Dean’s skin. 

He fought back another wave of tears at the fact his pride had cost him the ultimate price. 

“I can’t do this without you, Dean.” He confessed. “I don’t want to do this without you.” 

Sam’s breath hiccupped as he rocked them, trying to find comfort in the action. “We were together and happy. I’m not ready to give that up yet.” 

Sam closed his eyes, the tears making his eyes sting as he breathed in Dean’s scent through the thick blood smell that hung in the air. 

Abruptly, a minuscule ripple of something touched at the edge of Sam’s power. If Sam hadn’t been holding the source in his arms, he never would have felt it. The quickly retreating pulse had felt almost like the thick vapor of a demon. 

But maybe more abrasive in nature. 

Sam felt his temper flare at the thought. If something had taken roost in Dean the short time his body was without a soul, Sam was going to use its lungs to drag it to the pit and rip it to pieces himself. 

Sam closed his eyes and concentrated, knowing what to look for and where. When determining if a human was still alive after being taken as a demon’s host souls tended to cower in the same metaphysical corner. 

But in the same corner of Dean’s mind, instead of the dancing blue concentrated energy of a human soul, _something_ warm and charred sat in its place. 

Before Sam could touch the thick ash, he was forced out of his trance as a hand firmly pressed the length of the first blade against his chest. 

Dean’s hand.

Dean’s hand was between their bodies, the palm of his hand over the hilt of the blade, fingertips pressing into Sam’s chest as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to wrap his hand around the blade or move it away to get closer to Sam. 

Sam pressed two fingers against Dean’s throat, a heartbeat pumping a steady thrum under Dean’s skin. 

“Dean.” Sam breathed in awe, cupping Dean’s bruised face watching those long lashes flutter against his cheek. 

Dean opened his eyes revealing the beetle black eyes of a demon. 

Instinctual fear stole Sam’s breath as he looked down into those dark eyes alongside the intimately familiar freckles. 

Dean winced in pain, his eyelids lowering in discomfort as his heart felt like it was threatening to give out if he so much as breathed too hard. “Sammy?” The question came out much more pathetic than he intended, but it suited how battered he felt. 

The fear Sam felt was quickly replaced by fury as he realized the _thing_ he’d felt in Dean was fucking with him. The fingers that checked for a pulse wrapped around Dean’s neck as Sam shoved it to the ground and loomed over the body below him. 

If it thought it could turn Dean’s body into a plaything it was going to wish it never heard the name Winchester. 

Dean closed his eyes and groaned in pain, his body too abused to do more than give a weak protest at Sam’s hand holding him down. 

“ _Get out of him this instant._ ” Sam commanded. 

Dean shook his head, in too much pain to question what Sam meant. 

“There’s nothing to get out.” Crowley said from his crouch a few feet from them. Far more composed than the situation should have warranted. “This is what the Mark does.” 

Sam spared Crowley a warning glance with those yellow eyes before diving back into Dean’s mind. He went straight to the charred mass and shoved. Dean’s bright aura unfurled in a rush to follow his silent command. 

In place of the bright blue of a human soul, was a warm dancing amber sphere laced with black ash – not unlike broken pottery that had been repaired with gold- there was no doubt in Sam’s mind; this was Dean’s soul. 

And Dean's soul looked like a newly made demon. 

Sam blinked open his yellow eyes to stare down at his hands wrapped around Dean's throat. 

The hand not holding the first blade was weakly wrapped around Sam’s wrist trying to break his hold. Staring back at him from under the hood of Dean’s long lashes were depthless black eyes. 

If Dean was a demon, he was unlike any demon Sam had ever encountered. His grip around Dean's neck relaxed, Dean’s soul was still mostly whole. 

All demons were glorified ghosts, their solid forms inaccessible to them. Even their manifestation form on this plane was limited to the intangible black cloud, able to slip in and out of things, and humans, with ease. 

Because of the state of Dean’s soul he was a demon that was would never be able to leave his body. As the mottled bruises along Dean’s face started to fade from dark blue and purple to cornflower yellow, Sam began to understand the vulnerability of being in this body was a non-issue. 

He turned his gold-yellow eyes on Crowley. “You knew.” He growled. 

“Only of the legends.” Crowley defended, unable to meet his King’s eyes. 

Several things fell into place in Sam mind as he thought about what this change would mean for Dean. For them.

“You knew this weapon was cursed yet you still told Dean about it.” Sam accused, waiting for Crowley to deny anything and give Sam a reason to end him here and now. 

“You probably orchestrated every detail that led Dean to receive that brand and taking up the first blade. You knew if you could secure another protector for me, ensure Lucifer was never released, it would further cover your own ass!”

Dean’s hand grabbed at Sam’s bloody sleeve and tugged. His grip was stronger than it was a few moments ago. Sam’s yellow eyes stared down into Dean’s black eyes. 

“He’s an ass, but he’s a useful ass.” Dean defended. “We can deal with him later.”

Sam noticed Dean’s skin color had returned to a healthier glow as well. He idly wondered if Dean healed as fast as he did. 

Souls had the power of regeneration. And because the demon aspect was now so tightly woven around Dean’s soul, self-preservation –something Sam would have denied Dean ever having before- was kicked into overdrive because it had a vested interest in keeping the vessel it was bound to in perfect condition.

The thought that Dean would be able to keep pace with him was exciting, but he was still so pissed at the both of them he kept the praise to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to the Tennessee Nuclear Plant but I did look at pictures.  
> I’m sorry if I got your hopes up about being a fellow Tennessean. : /


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy King!Sam  
> Demon!Dean

**THEN**

Sam drove all night, stopping once the sun started coming up.

They were in George when he finally pulling into a motel. 

Dean had been silent, but Sam could feel him stirring in the passenger seat. The random intervals of Dean’s new conscious forcefully bumping into his were almost as if Dean was testing to see what it did. He had just started to figure out how to prod at Sam when they pulled into the parking lot. 

Never let it be said Dean wasn’t a fast learner.

Sam had insisted Dean shower, the blood sticking to his chest had to be bothering him by now. 

He was leaning against the sink as Dean hummed in the shower. Dean was in an awfully good mood for being recently dead. Sam had refrained from asking Dean to open the shower curtain entirely –willing to undergo the “you just want a show” flirtatious bat of Dean’s eyelashes –but Sam was so on edge he didn’t even want the flimsy plastic between them. 

“If I’m a demon does that mean you can drink my blood?” Dean asked through the shower curtain. 

Sam would be lying if he said he hadn’t already entertained the thought. “Don’t see why not.” He answered, going for calm and indifferent. 

If Dean were a knight of hell Sam would be able to _feel_ the difference. But Dean still felt like Dean. 

Only, sharper somehow. Like he had been a knife in need of sharpening until this very moment. 

“How can we test that?” Dean wondered aloud, “I don’t feel the need to drink from a baby skull, that’s a sign right?” 

Sam shook himself from his thoughts, “What? No, it’s- be serious.” He chastised.

Dean punched off the water and pulled back the shower curtain with an exasperated huff, “I _am_ serious! What do I have to be on the look out for here?” 

Confusion had Sam’s brows knitting together, “How would I know? You don’t feel like a demon; you just feel, like you.” 

Dean grabbed the motel towel and started drying himself off. 

Sam tried not to stare at him openly, but he wanted to know if he could see the difference. 

“I think we should at least try.” Dean announced dropping the now damp towel into the bottom of the tub. 

“Try?” Sam echoed, “Try drinking your blood to see what happens?” 

Dean nodded and walked buck-naked into the motel room. 

Sam leaned against the doorframe, with a thought he snapped the open curtains of the main room closed. 

“Exhibitionist.” Sam muttered watching Dean grab a coffee mug and flick open a pocket knife Sam didn’t actually remember seeing him grab. on his way from the shower. 

Dean turned to Sam, blood dripping from his wrist down his forearm as he held out a half cup full of his blood. “Here.” He announced. 

“Dean!” Sam gasped and took the coffee mug so he could roll Dean’s wrist over. 

There was no cut. 

Just the line of blood indicating there had been one. 

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean and then at the coffee cup he held. With a small huff, he brought it to his mouth and drank the whole thing in one go. 

Sam licked his lips and sucked his teeth clean of the blood as he waited for the surge of power that drinking demon blood always brought him. 

The wave that washed over him almost brought him to his knees. He gasped looked down at the cup in his hand, suddenly wishing for more. 

He looked up at Dean who was watching him with knowing eyes. “Good?” Dean asked, a small curl of the corner of his lips. 

Sam brought the wrist he still held in his hand to his mouth and ran his tongue slowly over the blood on Dean’s forearm. 

Dean bit his lower lip as Sam focused on cleaning his skin of every drop. 

When Sam turned his hungry gaze back to Dean, his brother was holding up the pocket knife in a silent offering. 

Sam snatched it from him and grabbed Dean’s chin in his hand to expose his neck. Sam raked the knife across the sensitive flesh there earning a hiss from Dean. 

He latched on to the wound and didn’t pull back until the cut was healed. 

“This okay?” Sam asked, silently begging for this to be okay because he didn’t want to stop anytime soon. 

“You and your stupid questions.” Dean huffed before manhandling Sam to the bed where they didn’t leave for 24 hours.

 

Yeah, Dean was defiantly a demon.

# 

The next time Sam has Boy King duties to attend to, Dean insisted he come along. 

Crowley had shrugged at the suggestion and Sam couldn’t make up a viable excuse either. 

 

There was a chamber where all Sam’s strongest allies gathered and there they brought their latest concerns. 

Most of them were petty squabbles that had been going on for centuries and short of killing everyone, Sam didn’t think it would get resolved anytime soon. 

It seemed big business wasn’t the only thing humans had managed to pick up from Hell’s existing structure.

As Dean walked into the chamber every demon started protesting. Their voices so numerous it was one loud deafening roar. 

_”Silence!”_ Sam shouted over the crowd. 

The room went quiet with nervous tension. 

When no one volunteered to explain, Sam rolled his eyes, “What is the problem?” 

One of the ancient demons stepped forward, sneering at Dean. “How can we trust your rule when the Knight there could end it if he’s feeling a particular itch.” 

The suggestion had Dean growling right back. “I’ll show you a fucking itch.” Dean said starting towards him. 

Sam put a placating hand against Dean’s chest and stopped him. The discontent murmur around the room started up again. 

“You barely have control over him now!” The demon cried, “End him where he stands, or we will be compelled to seek an audience with the next king!” 

The demons gathered started yelling again. Disagreement and demands for blood called against each other. 

The threat on Sam’s life evident in Dean’s mind, he broke from Sam’s hold and started towards the demon that suggested it, drawing the First Blade. 

“The Beast wishes to fight!” The demon roared, causing the frenzy to start up again. 

“Dean!” Sam hissed grabbing Dean’s shoulder and spinning him around. He grabbed the lapels of Dean’s jacket and used his power to hold Dean still. 

The unfamiliar vise of Sam's power had Dean straining to lash out at him, his own frantic roar drowning out the rest of the chamber, the echo fading to silence once more. 

Sweat beaded on Sam’s forehead as Dean raged in the confines of his hold. 

Sam brought their foreheads together and took a deep breath, he only had one option to get this back under control. He couldn’t allow Dean to start dropping bodies or they'd never get anything done.

With a tightly controlled tendril of Sam's power, the old demon flashed beneath the skin of its host, the dead body collapsed to the ground. 

Soothed by the threat being eliminated, Dean dropped his head and panted against Sam’s collarbone, his anger calming. 

A fearful cry went out “Long live the Boy King!” followed by another deafening roar, this time it was of agreement.

Sam released Dean from his power but kept his fisted balled in Dean’s jacket. Sam opened his eyes to see his own yellow eyes reflected in Dean’s beetle black gaze. 

Dean blinked and the black receded to revile a barely concealed look of fear. 

Sam felt his anger ratchet back up at the dead demon. He never wanted to use his powers on Dean. 

“Dean.” Sam said mournfully and released his hold on Dean’s jacket.

Dean grabbed at Sam’s arms to keep his close and tilted his head back offering his neck. A silent token they were still okay. 

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, the only knife he had on him was Ruby’s knife. Dean had to know that.

Drawing the knife from his hip, and to the horrified gasp of the crowd, Sam made a shallow cut along Dean’s neck. 

Dean grunted in pain and Sam moved to lavish the cut with his tongue. Dean was never more aware of Sam’s abilities than he was at that moment, ss he stood before Sam’s followers and allowed Sam to drink from him. 

Sam could kill him without moving a muscle. Dean ground his teeth and squashing the thought down. He had nothing to fear from Sam.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy King!Sam  
> Demon!Dean

**NOW**

"Oh Sammy," Dean grinned as he pulled the Impala to a rolling stop just outside the city limits, "Can you feel that?"

Sam been _feeling it_ for some time. His frown was becoming more pronounced the closer they got. It clicked into place in his mind, and he glared through the windshield in revulsion, "Did they take over the whole town?" 

Dean gave an excited whoop, "About time!" He wrung the steering wheel in excitement, "Are you ready to have some fun, Sammy?" 

Sam knew if he tried to tell Dean to calm down now it would only direct that overflowing bloodlust at him. They were too close to Meg for Dean to reel in his instincts now. 

Sam couldn’t stop the small upturn of his lips at Dean’s childlike excitement. “Yeah Dean, I’m ready.” 

# 

The house that radiated Meg’s tainted aura was a modest two-story suburban home. If she wasn’t in this house, she sure as hell spent a lot of time there. 

Sam forced the door open, the large oak frame hitting the ground echoed throughout the house. 

He stepped inside the doorway and took in the startled black eyes staring back at him. They were obviously waiting on an order, a sign, something. 

As Dean moved to stand behind him, a murmur of celebration passed through the demons before them. 

Beside him, Sam heard Dean issue a low growl. A sound Dean didn’t even register making anymore when he was presented with something to kill. 

Dean lunged for the nearest demon but was halted abruptly by an invisible barrier. 

Sam clenched his teeth in silent fury as he bent to pull the rug up. There in dark red -probably blood Sam thought with a sneer- was a perfect devil’s trap. 

It had been there for some time judging by the way the blood didn’t flake or rub away when Sam pulled the rug across it. 

Sam watched the demons jeer at them from across the room. 

“Oh how the mighty Boy King can be brought so low.” A child-like voice called from the top of the stairs. 

Sam took a calming breath even as Dean let out a snarl that reverberated Sam’s chest at their close distance. He didn’t try to rein Dean in as Lilith’s latest vessel descended the stairs. 

“And we spent all this time worrying you were going to be a hard to take down.” She pouted as her eyes faded from pearl white to the host’s bright blue. "All for nothing I guess." She flashed them a smile from the pretty face she stole. 

“How about you get a little closer and we see how hard it’ll be for you.” Dean barked. 

If Sam weren’t so sure the blade were indestructible, he would think Dean’s grip would crush the hilt of the bone. 

“What are you trying to accomplish?” Sam asked keeping a tight hold on his powers knowing that lashing out now would do him no good. 

“Accomplish?” Lilith blinked those borrowed big blue eyes at them, “Our plans were long laid to waste by the Boy King.” She said glaring at him. “But even though you no longer serve our purpose doesn’t mean we can’t have our fun with you.” 

At Lilith’s side, the planes between worlds split and the disgusting rot-warmth and decay of a hellhound stepped forward. 

Sam had to grab Dean’s arm to keep him from rebounding against the Devil’s trap barrier a second time as he snarled at the mutt. 

“I think it’ll be just as much fun to watch you get torn apart a second time Dean.” Lilith said dropping a hand to the hell hound's half rotted head. 

A distant howl came from somewhere in the house, and two more hell hounds stepped between worlds, moving through the small crowd of demons to flank the devil’s trap. 

“I’ve never tried my powers against a hell hound.” Sam mused aloud, not taking his eyes off Lilith. 

He made sure to watch her expression turn horrified as he stepped forward- across the perfect circle of the devil’s trap. 

The demons around them cowered and cried out in fear in equal turns and one of the hell hounds lowered its head in fear and submission. 

The hell hound at Lilith’s side charged him with a snarl, his massive fanged jaw coming for his heart. Sam snapped a hand out, catching the beast by the throat and driving it into the ground, it gave a strangled yelp as Sam crushed the manifestation’s throat. 

He stood slowly watching Lilith fall behind a few of the braver demons that dared to confront him. 

“Dean,” Sam said balling his fist covered in the dark red blood of the hellhound, he stomped the heel of his shoe into the hardwood, rattling picture frames off the wall. The force cracked the devil’s trap down the middle. 

Sam turned to smile at Dean over his shoulder, “Would you do the honors?” 

Dean stepped over the broken trap and his eyes flooded black. “With pleasure Sammy.” 

Breaking the devil’s trap felt like Sam had unleashed his own beast. Dean tore through the first two demons before they could lift a hand to defend themselves. 

The hell hound was next, Dean’s hate for the evil canines was evident in the way he took his time. Driving the first blade down the side of his neck in a bloody mess before slashing the razor edge through its chest, tearing it open beyond recognition. 

Lilith was staring at him with wide horrified eyes when Dean turned and took her head off at the shoulders.

# 

It wasn't in their interest to stick around and clean up the mess they’d made of the house. 

The human souls were already gone, so it was a wasted exercise to salt and burn the bodies. Dean washed the blood from his hands and the blade before they stole out the back door, taking the long way back to the car. 

Standing by the Impala was a scruffy dark haired teenager. He wasn’t standing around admiring the car, as Dean liked to assume most people did, he looked like he was waiting. 

Judging by the way his posture straightened, trying to be as tall as his short stature would allow, he had been waiting for them. 

He was human, as far as Sam could tell. But he had the faintest mar on his soul as if it were already claimed. 

“Hi, are you Sam and Dean Winchester?” He asked the slightest curve of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. 

He was an arrogant little son of a bitch. 

Sam frowned at him while Dean offered a dismissive, “Yeah.” 

The kid relaxed and nodded to himself almost as to congratulate himself on a job well done. “I’m Gary, a warlock, and I have a message from Meg.” 

Before Sam could call him off Dean had bodily grabbed the kid by the throat and shoved him against the side of the Impala. 

Gary let out a high pitch sound of protest, his voice apparently still not mature enough to not squeak in emotional situations. 

“Start talking or I’m going to start breaking bones.” Dean threatened. 

Gary grabbed at Dean’s wrist, his eyes wide in horror. “She s-said she’s s-sorry she couldn’t be here herself but you a-arrived too soon. She wasn’t ready for you yet. But she’s ready now at the place you first met. Please for the love of god don’t kill me.” He begged trying harder to get Dean’s vice grip off his neck. 

Sam watched the terrified kid with an expressionless mask. 

Meg knew they were coming after her in Andover. She’d laid the devil’s trap in hopes it would catch Sam. 

He had suspected as much, but knowing this whole thing had been a trap only served to piss him off more. She was too much of a coward to come after him so she’d gone and laid, what was undoubtedly another trap, in Indiana. 

Sam took a deep breath and calmed his mind. 

“Gary.” The kid flinched at his name, “How did you talk to Meg?” 

Gary turned and met Sam’s gaze. Too young and stupid to know not to. 

“We-We have this book, and we were messing around with it one night, and she came to me. Told me what to tell you. I’m really sorry if I-” 

Sam cut his babbling apology off, “We’re warded. How did you find us?” 

The reality of the situation seemed to settle over the teenager because his eyes started to water from unshed tears. “The book has a tracking spell. Someone gave me this bloody rag and Meg told me to use it to find you.” 

That bloody rag was Dean’s shirt from her first attempt on his life. 

“I borrowed my mom’s car-” Gary continued to babble, “-she thinks I’m picking up parts for my science fair project, no one knows I’m here!” He begged. 

Sam stepped closer, his anger making his eyes glow yellow but he didn’t care to reign it in. Let the kid see what his arrogant actions could have brought him. 

Gary gave a cry of fear as Sam grabbed his chin and forced him to look up, “Don’t get involved in things you have no business being a part of. This war,” Sam paused to let the kid absorb that, “has no place for you.” 

Dean let go of his throat with a scoff when he realized Sam wasn’t going to let him kill the kid. 

Gary got his feet under him and turned thankful eyes up at Sam. 

With a phantom hand around his throat, Sam shoved him back against the car before lifting him off his feet. He was going to have one hell of a bruise after this. 

“I’m going to erase the claim a demon has on your soul.” Sam said as he reached into Gary’s jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone, holding it out to Dean. “Then I want you to go home. Get that book. And call me after you’ve destroyed it. Do I make myself clear?” 

Gary nodded frantically, his face red from lack of oxygen. Sam released him, and Dean slapped him on the chest with his phone, one of Sam’s burner cells entered in as new contact. 

“Don’t make us come find you.” Dean warned as they climbed into the car. 

The roar of the engine cut off any response the kid might have had.

# 

As they drove through Burkittsville, Indiana, Dean was more than a little pleased to see the town was all but empty. 

All the little ma and pops shops were boarded up, some sporting old spray-paint tags. 

There was no gas station in town as the previous owners, may they burn in Hell, had died and no one took up running the place.

“How far did you make it?” Dean wondered aloud as they left the Orchard-God worshipping town behind them. 

“You mean how long did I walk?” Sam asked with a map laid out in his lap. “About 15 miles before I was picked up.” 

“And you met Meg on that walk?” 

“Alongside the road, nothing around for miles but empty fields.” Sam nodded.

Dean snorted a laugh, “Meeting a chick in the middle of nowhere? Yeah, that’s not fucking weird at all.”

Sam playfully shoved at his shoulder, “Shut up.” 

# 

They could feel them long before they got there. 

Dean parked a mile away -“She’s safer here.” Dean had defended at Sam’s questioning look- and they walked side by side down the road. 

The clouds overhead were dark and threatened to unleash a downpour. Growing darker the closer they got. Lightning flashed overhead; an old superstition evil spirits were closer to the Earth than any other time. 

Sam felt it appropriate.

The sea of demons in front of him were husks of their former hosts. There was no flicker of the human soul among the bunch. 

The demons in front of them were fanatics, the true Fire-and-Brimstone type. They burned the human host out within hours of having the body. 

There was no reason for either of the brothers to hold back. 

“Fitting isn’t it!” Meg called from the front of her army. Her petite form pacing back and forth in front of the throngs of demons. She threw her arms wide, indicating the empty field around her. “This wasn’t the first time I saw you, but the first time you saw me don’t you remember Sammy? You were trying your hardest to get away from your brother. To find your father. Find answers as to why your life has been so miserable since the day you were born.” 

Dean snarled but otherwise stayed against Sam’s side. 

“You were trying to protect me. Do you remember that Sammy? Some innocent little girl on the side of the road, making bad life decisions.” She smiled, the early dawn light making her features look sharper, more elongated, more like the monster she was. 

“We had it all laid out for you, you know. A little sip of blood here, a little exorcism there. You were going to help people!” She cheered. “You were going to make a difference. Now look at you. You’ve even gone and managed to drag your brother into the mess you’ve made. He has become even more of a freak than you!” 

Sam schooled his face into an emotionless mask, feeling the truth of her words down to his tainted soul. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Dean roared, “Love the sound of your own fucking voice!" He yelled across the empty field, "Stop. Fucking. Talking!” Only Sam’s hand on his elbow prevented Dean from advancing on her. “You’re dumber than I thought if you think I wouldn’t have given up my own mother to be here at Sam’s side!” 

The admission stole the air from Sam’s lungs. Sure Dean had damned himself when he took the Mark of Cain, but until now Sam had been convinced it had been an accident. 

Sam was watching Dean when his brother turned to look at him, a sneer on his lips, his green eyes bright. “Nothing was going to keep me from you.” Came his solemn promise. "Nothing."

Sam realized Dean was waiting for him to agree. “Of course.” He said, hoping Dean could read the honesty in his voice.

Dean’s hand came up, and he grabbed the back of Sam’s head pulling him into a harsh kiss. There was blood on his tongue, an offer of power that Sam swallowed greedily. 

They pulled apart and Dean’s eyes were black, a small smirk playing along his lips. 

“After you.” He said with a mock bow. 

Sam turned his eyes to the hundreds in front of him. He held out his hand and with a grunt of effort he split open the ground from under the feet of Meg’s demons. Cries went up as they were swallowed by the Earth, silenced just as quickly as Sam pushed the dirt back together. 

The demons would smoke out of course -crushed hosts doing them no favors- but for now it diminished the number of Meg’s forces they would have to fight. Once Meg herself was taken care of they could work through the rest at their leisure. 

From across the field they heard Meg give a scream of rage and her army was racing towards them. 

Dean’s proud grin made Sam’s chest well with affection. 

Sam returned Dean’s little bow and swept an arm out to the army before them. “Lead on.” 

Dean’s grin turned predatory, and they turned in sync to cut through the first demon to reach them. With an inhuman growl and barely contained excitement Dean threw himself into the multitude of clawing hands. 

Sam used the pulsing warmth of _Dean_ to track his brother as he disappeared from sight as to not accidently touch him with his powers. 

He reached out and grabbed various demons with his mind, falling into the familiar push-breath-and-pull of ripping the black mass from the human shape. 

The second wave of black eyed hosts came at him and between one demon and the next Meg’s menacing aura was suddenly at his side. 

The sharp bite of her serrated knife ran along his side startled a grunt of pain from him. 

She disappeared before he could descend on her, her aura already too far out of his reach across the field. Too many demons between them. 

Sam growled and used his naturally enhanced strength to run a hand through the chest of the demon charging him, deciding against exerting any real effort on such a tactless approach. 

Meg’s appeared within range again, and instinct had him reaching out, but no matter how sharp Sam’s abilities were, the milliseconds it took to shroud a demon with his power, Meg was faster. 

Her blade slashing across his exposed back before she vanished. 

By the fourth time she flitted away Sam was getting pissed and realized the cuts she dealt him weren’t healing as quickly as they should have been. 

Between tearing down any demon close enough to him he would brush against her aura and she’d teleport away, slipping through his fingers like oil. 

The brother’s natural gravitation brought them steadily back together. 

Sam gave no indication he noticed his brother working his way towards him. And the way Dean let out a pleased laugh as he ripped into a demon told Sam that Dean didn’t realize how close they were getting either. 

Just before Sam was going to call out a warning Meg appeared at Dean’s back, slashing across the expansion of his shoulder before darting away. 

As Dean unconsciously made his way back, Sam noticed the same tears in his clothes as his own. Meg had been attacking Dean when she wasn’t carving him up. 

As Sam dropped another demon using nothing more than his fists he felt Meg behind him. Half a moment later he felt the give of his skin under her knife and a moment after that he felt her advancement on Dean; all well within Sam’s grasp. 

It was Meg’s arrogance that kept her on the battlefield, and it would be Meg’s arrogance that got killed her. 

Sam held up a hand, blanketing every demon near them with a firm hand halting them in their tracks and pulled. 

The same moment Dean spun on his heel, that deadly grace in every line of his body, and brought the first blade up and blocked Meg’s attack. 

If the parry surprised her it didn’t show through the vicious sneer pulling at her lips. 

Sam struggled to force his power to contain her, reminiscent of all those months ago when he tried to demand answers from Ruby. 

Meg pulled back from Dean and delivering a lightning quick uppercut so hard his teeth clicked together, and his head snapped back. 

Rage fueled Sam’s next attempt as he stepped forward, grabbing her by the throat and holding her at his eye level, easily coiling his power around her jagged edges and holding her. 

She gave a screech of madness and struggled in his hold. Pounding against the walls he formed around her. 

The army around her stopped their assault to watch as their leader was incapacitated on the battlefield. 

Many of them watching the scene with hate filled eyes, others hesitating before attacking in hopes of catching Sam when his guard was down, only to be struck down themselves when Dean ran them through. 

Dean created a kill zone around Sam and Meg, using his demonic speed and strength to end any demon brave enough to try and assist Meg. 

She fought against Sam’s powers for several long minutes, sweat beading on Sam’s forehead as he kept an iron hold on her. 

“Worthless freak. The both of you.” She spat up at him. “Fed lie after lie and neither of you even question it!” 

“Shut up bitch.” Dean demanded as he sunk the blade into a foolhardy demon’s stomach and turning to snarl at another to fall back in line.

Even as Sam held her suspended, she managed to turn her nose up at Dean as he moved around them, “There is nothing special about you or your blood.” She sneered. “You think you have a leg up on us _regular_ demons by being a knight of hell?” She gave a fake laugh that raised Sam’s hackles, “The Knights were chosen because of their already brutal nature. A few strategists plucked from obscurity and leashed by the first human turned demon and set upon the world.” 

She turned her blood smeared face to Sam, “Brother dearest’s blood doesn’t offer you anything you can’t find within any other fool willing to follow you.” 

Sam took a deep calming breath, the push-breath-and-pull drawing an ear-piercing scream from Meg as the demon under the skin flashed in death. 

Sam released her throat, allowing the empty husk of Meg’s host to fall to the cold Earth.

Dean moved to stand over her body, looking down at it with the slightest head tilt. “Interesting theory.” 

A cry of confusion went up around them. Many of the demons took the opportunity to flee their hosts but many more stayed, their black eyes on the brothers. 

From the depths of the bodies before them a loud voice called something out in a foreign language, the army rippling in agreement. 

Dean tilted his chin towards the frenzying demons, eyes on Sam. “Sounded like a threat.” 

Sam nodded, “Kill the traitors.” He translated. 

A grin split Dean’s face in two “Oh I’ll show them traitors.” 

With a deafening roar the demons attacked. No finesse, no tactic, the prolonged wave meant to wear them down over time abandoned in the hoard’s blind fury and destruction. 

Demon after demon fell around them, run through by either Dean’s blade or Sam’s fist. 

As the battle raged on more and more demons smoked out. Occasionally Sam would grab them mid-escape and vaporize them, just to remind them he could. 

# 

With all the demons either dead or escaped the brothers were left alone in the empty field. 

Dean turned towards Sam, his eyes beetle black and blood soaked up to his forearms. There wasn’t one untouched spot on the blade in his hand for the white of the bone to show through. 

As they stood facing each other in the empty field the unfiltered thought of “I’m next” crossed Sam’s mind. 

He tried not to panic, lest it show on his face. He reasoned if Dean took him out he’d take Dean out with him. That way thought wouldn’t be alone wherever they ended up next. 

Dean watched those yellow eyes take him in, size him up like he was the next big bad on Sam’s to-do list. He felt the firm hand of Sam’s powers settle around him, just shy of actually touching him. 

Ignoring the threat for what was, Dean started towards his brother. 

Dean’s long strides towards him had Sam bracing himself until he noticed the First Blade was missing from Dean’s hand. He caught sight of it a few paces behind Dean where it had been dropped, abandoned, as he advanced on Sam. 

Dean ignored Sam’s confused expression in favor of wrapping his bloody hand around the back of his baby brother's neck and tugging him in for a fierce kiss. Biting and sucking Sam’s lower lip in turn before licking into Sam’s mouth, running his teeth across Sam's tongue when he tried to return the favor, demanding Sam accept the rough treatment. 

Dean settled a hand on Sam’s hip and pulled him closer. 

Sam could feel the hard line of Dean’s erection as they pressed against each other. Sam pulled back from the kiss with a protest in the form of Dean’s name. 

Dean gave one last aggressive peck to Sam’s lips before releasing him and pulling back. 

“If we get you cleaned up we still have some daylight left to go after that Djinn in Chicago.” Dean purred, batting his now green eyes. 

Sam huffed a laugh, his smile pulling at his already kiss bruised lips. “Let’s start with a shower and see how far we get.” 

“Deal.” Dean answered pulling him back down for another long kiss. 


End file.
